


As Thin of Substance as the Air

by Speary



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Community: deancasbigbang, Dcbb 2017, Dean/Cas Big Bang, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge, Depressed Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, Pining Dean, Post-Season/Series 12, Sharing a Bed, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 22:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 59,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12263388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speary/pseuds/Speary
Summary: Chasing a nephilim and keeping the world from yet another potential apocalypse leaves little time for the apple pie life. That sort of life is the very thing that dreams are made from, and Dean barely has time for even that. So when Sam hands him a case that takes them into a charming, small town in Virginia where winter never comes and everything is pleasant, he rolls with it, mostly. After all, Cas is with them there, and sometimes they get to live like they aren’t about to die and kiss like they’ve got all the time in the world.





	1. Sing in Me O Muse

**Author's Note:**

> The DCBB is such a beautiful thing. I love that I got to meet Maiglöckchen, my wonderful artist. You should absolutely go check out her work for this fic via her [Art Masterpost](https://convallariini.tumblr.com/post/166047851648/illustrations-for-as-thin-of-substance-as-the-air) . Go give her all the love. As always, much love to my friends in BookClub. Thanks also to my wonderful beta [Alison](http://partyof3blog.tumblr.com/) .
> 
> Hope you all like it.

 

 

> _“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”_ Harriet Beecher Stowe, _Little Foxes_
> 
>  

At the end of it all, Dean knelt in the woods alone. The smell of the earth was just pungent enough to almost mask the scent of the blood. It was familiar and not. The wet ground soaked into his jeans and gave him a point of focus. The trees loomed up high all around him, blotting out the sky and any stars that might be there. It was a moonless night, and so dark that he wasn’t sure how he was seeing anything.

He held his arm, fresh cut, over the earthen pit he had dug. A sacrifice had to be made. The blood of a ram would have been enough in a long-ago era. Now, in this new situation, the blood of one Winchester was what was required. They’d have fought him on this if he’d have told them what he was doing. They’d have to remember what they were told for more than a moment though, and that had been a problem for going on forever.

Dean felt lucky as he bled out in the woods. He remembered enough, to do this, to save them, if that's what one would call this.

The air stirred in front of him, a breeze that wasn’t a breeze. It was a movement of air displaced by what had come. His mouth moved through the words, Latin phrases hastily memorized. There was light in the darkness, drawn to the blood upon which she’d feast. She’d speak her peace and be done. Then maybe the world could be set to rights.

The light came to the blood. Dean felt it dripping thick from his arm to the earth. He felt dizzy. The sick feeling was overtaking him as consciousness was slowly being ripped away. It wasn’t like the dizziness before. This was worse. He knew there was something wrong that his mind wasn’t grasping. He worried that what came after, might kill him. Dean comforted himself with the fact that, at least at the end, he’d said how he felt. He at least gave what he could in that regard. Or did he? For a moment, at least, he wasn’t really sure.

—-

 

 

_I love you._

The glowing golden tobacco that grew in the vast fields on either side of the long rural road waved gently back and forth on a little autumn breeze. Dean tried to focus on the moment, on the things around him. There was the roar of the engine as he pressed the accelerator as far as he could. There was the feel of the humid air that was everywhere and made breathing feel like a chore. There were the fields, endless and golden like sunshine in summer.

He kept trying not to think, not to let his mind fall into the abyss. Everything felt muddy and a little dangerous. He drove to escape. Staying was dangerous. He immediately regretted his decision. He gripped the steering wheel harder and thought that he could crush it if he really wanted to. He took a deep breath and made himself concentrate on all that was present in the moment. This was necessary. This would make everything right again.

It was still day, a bright, too-hot day. Summer had dragged out long this year. It wasn’t summer. It wasn’t even fall. _Virginia shouldn’t be this hot right now._ He let his mind linger on that thought for a moment. Virginia wasn’t like this. This was an anomaly. This was part of the problem. _Why hadn’t we noticed this before?_ His head began to feel the effects of too much thinking all over again. He gripped the steering wheel.

He felt guilt wash over him. _I left. I left._ The words pounded at his temples. Then a face and more words. _I love you._ He ran from that. He stared hard at the fields that just went on forever, and he thought that maybe they did. Maybe he was driving on a road that just kept looping around on itself, like some sort of a treadmill. There was a distant red barn, the kind you’d see in paintings of the old country. It looked too perfect. He heard the words again, a distant echo down the long hallway of his mind.

He took his foot off the accelerator and let the car slow down to a stop. His heartbeat was loud in his ears. The world was a dizzy mess outside the car. The words were there too, a counter to the noise of his panic. He tried not to breath too much. The pollen was here too. It was getting to him. He lowered his head to the steering wheel and pressed against it with his forehead. He just had to keep going. He just couldn't turn back.

_I love you._

  


 

Dean woke up to Sam barging into his room, switching on the light as he did. “I got a case.” He took the chair from the desk and whipped it around to face the bed. Sam held out his tablet as he sat.

“Morning to you too.” Dean rubbed at his eyes as he sat up a bit. Everything was still a little fuzzy with sleepiness. Sam was still holding out the tablet. “You know, some of us require beauty sleep.”

“You can sleep later. Read this.” Sam waved the tablet at him again.”

Dean took it. “What’s this?” He was still trying to focus. The room was too bright. He looked down at the screen and read the title about a quarantine in a place called Cora.

Sam tapped the edge of the tablet in his hand and said, “It’s a case. At least I think it is. Cas thinks so too.”

“You already called Cas about it?”

“Didn’t have to. He’s here.” Sam smiled around the announcement.

“I’m getting up.” Dean handed back the tablet, hardly caring about what it had to say. Case or not, Cas was here. He pulled on his sweats and lifted one arm then the other to see if he smelled bad. He pulled off the t-shirt he was wearing and replaced it.

Sam was leaning in the doorway looking some kind of smug. “Guess I shoulda led with the Cas announcement.”

“Dude’s been gone for weeks. Damn right you lead with that.” Dean stalked past him. “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me that mom moved back in.”

“Nah, just Cas.” Dean threw out his arms at that and made his way out to the War Room.

Dean walked right up to him and pulled him into a hug. “You’re back.” Cas returned the hug immediately and with just the right amount of pressure as to make it warm and good. Dean breathed him in, relishing the heady dizziness that came with being this close to him.

When they parted, Cas said, “It was beginning to feel pointless.”

“So no luck finding the little hellspawn?”

“No. In fact, I don’t think I’m even close. I figured I’d come home and see what I could do here instead.”

“Thank god.” Then Dean seemed to realize how that sounded and gave his attention to Sam. “Looks like your timing is good. Sam maybe found a case.” He stopped a moment and then quickly added, “I mean unless you were looking for down time.”

“No, I’m looking for distraction, and the case seems like it will do just that.”

“The quarantine? That sounds like a good distraction to you? Sounds like a lot of germs and grossness to me.” Dean pushed his hands into the pockets in his sweatpants and rocked back on his heels.

“It doesn’t sound like a typical quarantine. It sounds like a cover up for something that no one seems capable of explaining. I’m willing to look at it if you two are particularly busy.” Cas reached out and  took the tablet from Sam to look over the article for a second time.

“No, we got nothing going here. We can make a vacation out of it. We’ll visit sunny Cora, Virginia. That should be peachy.” Dean adopted a too-chipper voice as he said it.

“I believe that it will not be sunny at all. They’ve been getting some rather intense snow storms in that region for weeks now.” Cas took him too seriously for the millionth time. Dean pushed down the little laugh that was just about to run free.

“God, it’s good to have you back.” He was smiling as he said it and was given a return on the investment. Cas looked like he hadn’t heard an ounce of anything good in some time, and this was hardly a deep well of feelings coming out of Dean.

“I need to remember not to be gone so long next time.” Cas looked to Sam then and asked, “What do you think is causing the hallucinations?”

“Huh?” Dean asked, completely missing the non-existent shift in their conversation.

“Sam had some theories he said he’d share when you got up. You got up so…”

“I get that, but was there something in the article about hallucinations?” Dean came closer to Cas and leaned over his shoulder to read the article for himself, since he hadn’t exactly read it in his room.

“That article didn’t really cover the hallucinations, but my source did. The article contained some speculations. I had a second short article my source sent from the small newspaper he works for. It’s been mostly rather vague.” Sam came closer as he spoke as well. “I really think we’ll learn more there.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Cas agreed. “Should we go now, or…”

“Hold your horses, all of you. I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet. Pretty sure we don’t need to run out the door that fast.” Dean started heading off to the kitchen immediately before either of them could disagree.

 

 

Something felt off, like the world had just gone to static on an old motel television set. There was a high screech and scratch. He felt dizzy.

_I love you._

He turned the car around slowly, the world still swimming in front of him. He thought he saw snow. It flashed away. All was summer again. He drove slowly back in the direction that he came. The dizziness began to lessen. “Fine, fine.” Dean blinked his eyes against the world in an attempt at clearing away the confusion. “I’m coming back.” He didn’t know who he was informing. Near as he could recall, no one did this to them. It just happened.

He sped up, and the world was all clear and sunshine bright. There was no snow, no shimmering shifts of the world in front of him. His head stopped pounding. The Impala drew closer to the town. He was on a little rise of land that looked out over all that stretched out below. The tiny town of Cora was there, all picturesque, but like something out of a Thomas Kincaide painting. Dean hated it even more in that moment.

_I love you._

He heard the voice again in his head, soft, yet still the low gravelly sound he had grown accustomed to hearing. He drove faster. _Why did I leave? Sorry._ His brain supplied the conversation he couldn’t have at a distance. He counted it as a prayer and felt it was entirely sufficient. He’d have to apologize to Sam in person.

Everything was off. He thought about the words. He was sure he was hearing them not as a memory but as a type of prayer. He had no business hearing them. He was no angel. How was he hearing them? These were the things that were plaguing him as he drove, as he tried to escape, as he nearly felt his skull burst in two.

_I love you._

The words came again, and he heard the shift in their tone. It was quiet and desperate. He sucked in a breath, so deep that he felt the sting of it. “I’m coming back. I’m sorry.” He said it out loud, hoping it would carry. He didn’t know what he’d do when he got there. He just knew he had to do something.

 

 

Dean had convinced Sam and Cas that they didn’t need to leave the bunker immediately. After all there was always time for coffee, and maybe even a halfway decent breakfast. They had a few days worth of driving that they’d be doing to get to Cora, Virginia. The weather wouldn’t help things. There was likely going to be snow on the route. Putting chains on the Impala was not Dean’s idea of a good time. Still, they’d do what they must.

The first couple of hours had been typical. Cas sat in the back, staring quietly out the window, while Sam fiddled around on his laptop. Sam found ways to keep researching even when they were in the sticks. He’d just download articles over the wifi hotspot that he made using his phone. Then when the journey took them outside of data service, he’d just grumble a little and read all of them offline.

Dean wanted to ask Cas how he’d been. Dean wanted to poke and prod at him until he knew every last detail of the weeks he had spent away from the bunker, away from them. He didn’t know where to begin though. He didn’t know just how Cas would take it. Instead Dean glanced at him every now and then in the rearview mirror, just to make sure he was still well and truly there.

This was working out fine for the most part. They eventually got onto the 40 in Arkansas, and Dean felt like he didn’t have to focus as much on the drive. The rural roads that they’d opted for during the earlier part of the trip had been rife with animals, large deer that seemed intent on diving headlong into the road. The 40 was not going to be a problem. They’d drive through some long stretches of tree-lined highways, but it should be safe enough.

It seemed so safe in fact that he glanced at Cas in the rearview mirror again, and happened to catch him staring back. Cas looked away quickly as if he had been guilty of some unspeakable crime. Dean just smiled at that. _Of all the things to feel guilty for, it would be actually laughable for Cas to feel guilty for staring after all these years._ He’d have pursued that line of thinking, but Sam interrupted his thoughts. “What?” It was a question delivered with a bit of dripping confusion.

Dean glanced at him. “Something wrong, Sam?”

“Just got wifi back, and the article I was reading is gone.” Sam sounded more concerned than he should have. Losing one article really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Cas leaned his head up on the back of the seat between them to look down at the laptop that Sam had open. “Maybe you don’t actually have service.”

“No, I’ve got data again. It’s the article. It’s actually gone.” Sam turned the laptop a little so that Cas could see it. “Normally that wouldn’t be so weird, but look at this.” Dean could hear Sam clicking away and Cas let out a little concerned sounding hum. “I know right.”

“Clue a guy in, Sammy.” Dean slowed a bit and considered pulling over.

“The article was deleted. All of the articles were deleted actually. If anyone looked up the Cora quarantine now, they’d get nada.” Cas reached out for the laptop as Sam finished explaining. Sam passed it to him.

“I just want to see something,” Cas said as he leaned back into his space. “Your downloads are still there at least. I imagine that people got the printed paper too. Why’d anyone bother deleting the online pieces?” He seemed to be just talking to himself.

“Well, given what we experienced before, I wouldn’t put it past some shadowy underground government agency to have a hand in this,” Dean offered up with a glance at the rearview mirror. Cas looked like he was absolutely invested in his reading now and just hummed out acknowledgement for Dean’s words. Dean continued, “What if the entity causing the problems in Cora is making the articles disappear?”

“We don’t even know what’s causing it.” Sam turned to Cas then and asked, “You getting anywhere with it?”

“No.” His simple response spoke to his focus. They rode on in silence for a half hour more before Cas spoke again. “Sam,” Sam turned back to him again. “What made this pop up on your radar?”

“Funny thing, a friend out in northern Virginia messaged me. He said he had a case, but that he couldn’t deal. He sent me the articles. I asked if he was connected to anyone in the town, and he said that he had someone there, but that none of that mattered. I asked him for more information, but he was on his own case, so he couldn’t get into anything deeper.”

“Who do we know in Virginia?” Dean asked with a bit of derision in his tone.

“We don’t know anyone in Virginia. _I_ know a guy in Virginia. Name’s Silas. Don’t know him well or anything, but he helped me out back when you were sporting demon eyes.” Sam looked off out the window and Dean didn’t have anything to say about that. “Anyway, he’d gotten clear of a cult, he said. He claimed that there was some pretty messed up stuff going down. Somehow this lead to him becoming a hunter. I didn’t question it too much. The guy had information on so much. I swear he was better than our whole library of lore back at the bunker. I could ask him anything, he knew the score.”

Cas interjected, “And he works for the newspaper that carried the articles on the quarantine?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“The articles that just got deleted. All the pieces you had came from the one source.” Cas looked up from the laptop at Sam. Dean followed this from the mirror.

“Seems fishy.” Dean drummed at the steering wheel as he drove, trying to process all of what Sam was saying. “So he came outta nowhere, gave you some song and dance about a cult, knows a crap ton of facts, and you don’t question that.”

“Like I said, he knew a lot of useful stuff. He was a colossal help back in the day.” And Dean was just grateful that Sam didn’t bring up the demon days so specifically this time. Sam continued, “When he called me this time, it was different.”

“How so?” Dean asked.

“Well…” Sam drummed at his knee with his fingers a moment before continuing. “So, he said he was going to send me stuff on a case, and what I do with the information is up to me. He said that he didn’t recommend doing anything, but he had to share it.”

“Remind me why we’re doing this.” Dean glanced over at him. The day was speeding on into evening, and the shadows were stretching their fingers out from the trees and into the highway.

“You saw the articles. This is our sort of thing. Just because Silas didn’t think we should doesn’t mean a thing. We always do things that seem crazy to other people.”

“That’s entirely true,” Cas said.

“Gee, thanks Cas,” Dean said.

“You’re welcome.” Cas leaned his head back up into the space between them again. “Why would he send you something though, and then try to discourage your interference at the same time? That’s what doesn’t make sense.”

“That, I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.” Cas handed Sam back his laptop and they each leaned back into their spaces. They drove on until evening claimed the world. They didn’t stop for the night until they hit the midpoint of Tennessee. Dean felt every muscle and joint as he got out of the car. He also felt the comfort that came from Cas at his side. Cas dropped a hand onto his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze and a bit of grace.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Dean still smiled and donned a look of gratitude.

“I know.” Cas squeezed his shoulder again, this time without the accompanying grace. It was anchoring. When his hand fell away, Dean kept the moment in his mind. He focused on the way that he felt warmth there that was missing before. He booked their room, and not for the first time, wished there was a way to shift the unshiftable things in his life. There wasn’t a way though. This was what he got.

 

 

_I love you._

The words were fading now, like some sort of dream that never was real. The Impala roared back into Cora. He could see the spot where he left Sam. He was playing checkers with Old Mo. The parade was setting up. The sun was settling into mid-day. There were children running up and down the sidewalks in clean clothes like they fell out of an episode of _Leave it to Beaver,_ and never knew what it was to roll around in the dirt a little. The vision in front of him flickered a little. He stopped the car in the middle of the street and got out. He walked down the middle of it and just stopped.

He didn’t have to worry about cars. There were none. He just looked at it all. His vision fuzzed a bit, but only for a second. In that moment, he could see one of the children riding by on her bike, saying “Don’t let go.” Her father was holding the back as she seemingly learned to ride. When his vision shifted he was briefly not there. She was riding alone. It was only a moment though, and then things were set back to rights. Dean rubbed the heel of his palm against one eye then the next. He shook his head as if to clear it.

He felt the warm comfort of a hand on his shoulder. “You made it back.” Dean turned and looked toward the voice. “You have a nice drive in the country?” It was Old Mo, his weathered face all craggy with age. His head of grey hair was perched on top of a small body hunched over a bit by years.

Dean nodded in response to the question. The hand remained on his shoulder, and it comforted him. It also reminded him of something. He kept trying to drive his thoughts down the path that would give him an answer on that front, but things were muddy. He focused on Old Mo, and admitted, “I feel like I’m forgetting something important.”

“Well, you did forget to park your car properly. Maybe it was that.” Dean looked past Old Mo to his car and noticed that it was in fact sitting right in the middle of the road. “You also might have been meaning to stake out a space for the parade. Your brother and I have already claimed good seats in front of the general store there. Now of course, we are a little set back from things, but that’ll hardly matter to two tall men such as yourselves.”

“You gonna miss some things?” Dean asked as he noted Old Mo’s very short stature.

“Oh son, I’ve seen more parades than I could shake a stick at. I’ve seen ‘em all. I’m sure I can imagine what’s happening just fine.” He chuckled in a way that sounded like music, a rising stream of tones that fluttered away on the little breeze that coursed by them. He gave Dean’s shoulder a little pat and moved in a way that was meant to guide him back to the sidewalk.

Dean didn’t follow right away. “I need to check on Cas.”

Old Mo stopped and turned back to him. “He’s still resting at the house over there. I don’t imagine that he’s up for much attention.” Old Mo waved at the little two-story Victorian across the street. “He’ll still be there after the parade too. Maybe then he’ll want some dinner. We can take him some together.”

“I think I’d rather go see him now for just a bit.” Dean started to walk off toward the house.

Old Mo said, “Suit yourself.” He smiled, and started heading back toward Sam. Dean watched him a moment then followed him. _Should let Sam know where I’m heading. Maybe he’ll want to go too._

Sam was staring at the checkerboard with an intensity usually reserved for much more complicated games. “Heya, Sammy.” Sam looked up at him.

“Hey yourself. Have a nice drive?” Sam asked as he moved a piece to a new square.

“Fine enough. I’m gonna go check up on Cas. Wanna come?” Dean reached out to Old Mo and helped him ease into the seat across from Sam.

“I might come by after the parade.” Sam watched Old Mo’s hand hover over the pieces. Old Mo seemed to be considering his options. “It’d be nice if he’d let me win just one round.” Sam laughed.

“You haven’t beaten him yet?” Dean considered the possible moves for each of them and saw that Sam was not gonna win this round either. It was odd. He’d played chess with Sam and countless other thinking games. Sam won quite often. He had a tactical bent when it came to certain things. _Apparently checkers is not his thing._ Still it was strange.

He turned to leave and Old Mo’s caught him. “You want us to move your car for you?”

“Oh, yeah. Hey Sam, catch.” Dean threw the keys to him, and Sam reached up by instinct and caught them. Dean turned back to the street and headed toward the Victorian.

The house was more than a house. It was located at the dead center of Main St. Cas had been occupying a room upstairs nearly since their arrival. The place was a bed and breakfast, but it served more than breakfast. The downstairs had a sitting room where guests could play cards and other board games. Along the walls one could find a number of old cloth-bound books on dark wooden shelves. The room at the front of the building was large and looked out onto the Main St. The room was full of linen-covered tables and floral centerpieces. They served meals in this room throughout the day.

When they first got to town, they were told that this was the place where people went for everything. So far that had proven true. They were given a room. They got food. They even got a doctor from down the hall when Cas didn't wake up.

Dean had to focus on that a moment. He stopped walking. He realized that he hadn’t thought about that. _Cas got hurt. What happened to him again?_ He forced himself to take each step, climb the stairs.

The walls were covered in wallpaper. The stairs were made of dark wood. The carpeting that cushioned his steps was far from new, but it was well taken care of. Everything was well taken care of. He noticed that right from the start. This was a town that seemed to be suspended in time. It was a place that held onto the old-world values and the old-world things. He’d had trouble finding much of anything that was modern. There were no TVs or computers. The general store rang up patrons with an old-timey cash register that actually dinged when the drawer opened.

He got to the top of the stairs and headed down the narrow hall to the room where Cas slept. He gave the door a little knock as if Cas were awake to hear it. He pushed the door open and made his way to the bed. Cas looked peaceful. His mouth was a thin line, lips slightly parted to let in air. _He doesn’t need to breathe._ Dean pulled over a chair from the nearby desk and took a seat facing him.

“Hey buddy,” he started. Dean reached out and settled a hand on Cas’ arm. His thumb moved in a gentle sweep back and forth. “It’d be nice if you woke up. Doc said, you’d be fine. I just would feel a heck of a lot better if I heard it from you personally.” Dean could hear a quiet cheer roll up from the crowd that was likely all joyous outside.

The parade would be starting soon. It was meant to celebrate the homecoming game. There were two high schools in Cora. There was Downtown Cora High, and there was Rural Cora High. Old Mo said that some years RCH had some very strong players, but that this year the DCH kids would likely win. Regardless, everyone was in high spirits about the game.

_I love you._

Dean snapped his attention back to Cas. The voice, it was almost more than just in his head. It was downright audible. “Cas?” He didn’t know what to really say. How do you ask if that voice in your head is real? How do you ask that question when the words you hear over and over again are _I love you?_ He gave Cas’ arm a little squeeze. “It’s nice knowing that you won’t up and leave on some bloody mission. I’ll give you that, but I miss the talking part. Wish you’d wake up.” Dean had thought about it before. He’d been almost singularly focused on just how much he wanted to find a way to keep Cas close.

He’d been leaving more and more. It was almost as if the universe had devised a way to keep him on the other end of the world. There was always something. There was always an apocalypse somewhere, and Cas was apparently the only angel that could solve it. Dean found the entire thing frustrating. For years he’d thought that with just a modicum of time, he might be able to have a real talk with him, maybe settle some things, but no. Even this journey should have afforded them some time to talk. Yet here he was staring at a very peaceful, very unconscious Cas.

_Could be worse. He could leave again._ Dean thought about what had gotten them to this moment, and found that he couldn’t remember how Cas got hurt. He could remember other things, conversations from a few days prior but not the injury that landed him in this bed. _Strange._ He decided to try piecing together the last couple of conversations. His mind wandered back to the journey to Cora and their night in Tennessee.

 

 

The motel room in Tennessee was like all of the rooms that the Winchesters seemed to find. The garish carpet and ancient bedding paired with the world’s gaudiest wall art. Somehow it had become easy to ignore. They walked in after finding food in town. Dean tossed his bag on the dresser next to the too-small  TV. He wasn’t quite ready for sleep yet, but he was ready for a shower so he called it, leaving Sam and Cas to themselves.

He wondered how much Cas would accomplish on the research front while they slept. And that wondering carried his mind into other thoughts that he knew he shouldn’t have while standing under the warm water of the shower. It had been a long day though. He raked his fingers up through his hair and soaped over his body. He could feel his muscles relaxing finally. He turned and let the water run down his back. He moved his left hand up to his right shoulder and let it settle there. It was easy enough to imagine a hug from behind that was accompanying that pressure there. It was easy enough to imagine that he wasn’t alone, and might never be alone.

In these quiet moments, Dean knew what it was he wanted, needed. He wanted this to be real. He wanted to have this and know that it wasn’t going anywhere. It was damn near impossible to make it a reality though. After all, the union of an angel and a human was an abomination. He heard it in the tone that Cas used. Dean didn’t need that though. He just needed to be close, to be able to freely have the small moments. He wondered if it would be too much to ask for more of that. He wondered if it would be too much to ask for maybe a little more.

It was a constant nagging thing in his head. What was possible, and what was unreasonable. He rinsed off, got out of the shower, and got changed into the sweatpants and t-shirt that he snagged out of his bag. When he emerged from the bathroom, he was greeted by a vision of Sam and Cas sitting together on one of the beds, their backs pressed to the headboard. They were sharing a laptop, reading the same page. Cas mumbled something as he looked up from the laptop.

Dean noted the shift in his look, from serious researching angel face, to quietly pleased friend face. Sam interrupted the moment almost immediately, “Hope you left me some hot water.”

“There’s enough.” Dean tossed his dirty clothes onto the dresser next to his bag and then went to the opposite bed. He pulled back the comforter to the end and then checked under the rest of the blankets and sheets. Giving it the mental _all clear,_ he slipped in and adjusted the pillows. Sam moved off to the bathroom, and Cas was left with the laptop.

Dean was rolled onto his side facing him. Cas turned to face him and asked, “You aren’t going to sleep yet, are you?”

“Was seriously considering it. Why?” Dean propped up his head on his hand while he watched Cas ease off of the bed with the laptop.

“Figured you had at least another hour’s worth of research left in you. Sam seemed like he was done.” He rounded Dean’s bed to the other side and Dean rolled over to watch him. “You care if I sit here?” Cas nodded down to the space on the bed that was unoccupied.

Dean rolled his shoulders into a shrug and said, “Make yourself at home.” He thought that he sounded weird when he said it. Cas seemed to note it too with a raised eyebrow. “What?” He didn’t know why he questioned it. He knew what spawned the moment. His voice nearly cracked like he was some pre-pubescent boy asking someone to go steady for the first time. This wasn’t that, and he had no business making the connection.

Cas eased down into the bed and tucked his sock-covered feet into the sheets, apparently making himself quite at home. _He’d been just fine occupying the outer layer of Sam’s bed,_ Dean noted. “You amuse me.” Cas admitted quietly.

“What’d I do?” Dean sat up and in doing so, brought them closer together. He made a pretense of shoving the pillows up behind him. Still his arm was pressed solidly against Cas’ own.

“It’s nothing. Here, let’s read some of the articles Sam managed to save.”

“Two eyes are better than one, I guess.” Dean half smiled as he said it, careful not to let his voice go all stupid.

Dean thought of the closeness and the desire to keep it. Cas was warm at his side and the computer was the brightest thing in the room. The light from the dinette by the window was dim and barely illuminated the room beyond the table. Outside the world was country dark. A little light was also coming in from under the bathroom door. The glow of the laptop on Cas’ face gave his features a sharp edge. He was all shadows next to Dean.

Dean looked down at the screen. The angle was a little awkward, so he adjusted his position a little. It brought him closer to Cas, if that was even possible. Five minutes passed like this as they read, and Cas clicked to new articles when needed. Sam was apparently taking a long shower. Dean could feel the little pin-pricks starting up in his left arm. It would be more comfortable not wedged between them like this. “Hey lean forward a bit.” Cas complied, and Dean slipped his arm behind him.

“Better?” It was kind of a question, kind of a statement of fact.

“Yeah, my arm was going dead,” he needlessly explained. Cas slid the laptop over a little more so that it now rested half on his lap and half on Dean’s. As he did so, he also settled his right arm around Dean’s back, a mirror of Dean’s posture. Dean looked at him a moment and Cas looked back. “Better?”

“My arm was going dead too.” Cas deadpanned, then turned back to the computer.

“Pretty sure you’re full of shit.” Dean reached toward the trackpad and scrolled the article up.

“I learn from the best.” Dean had to laugh at him for that.

“I’m thinking we won’t learn much more from these articles. They’re all pretty superficial.” Dean glanced up at the bathroom door as he heard Sam shut off the water.

Cas looked up then too and seemed like he read into the moment. He started to move away from Dean. Dean could even feel Cas’ arm start to slide away from behind him. He’d been too much in his own head lately, and this moment felt like Cas leaving all over again. He felt a dizzying fear overtake him with that thought. Dean automatically clamped his hand tighter on Cas’ hip, and that stopped Cas’ progress entirely. Dean kept his eyes on the screen now, like he was reading it. He wasn’t. He was just letting the letters swim around on the sea of white.

Cas settled back into place by minute degrees, as if he was testing Dean to be sure this was okay. They could hear rattling around in the bathroom, and it was only a matter of time before Sam would emerge. In a way, they were playing a game with each other. Would they each stay this close even if Sam emerged? Who would slip away first? Who would fumble an explanation to Sam for what they were doing. _We were just reading._ Dean could already hear his voice delivering the feeble explanation for their closeness, and at the same time he didn’t care. He thought that maybe he didn’t need to say a word. Sam wasn’t blind. He knew what was going on here.

“Oh, I didn’t show you the strangest part of all of this.” Cas reached up and clicked open a new tab. “You remember the spot Sam marked on the map for where we’re going?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

“Well, look what comes up when we try to pinpoint it in the online map.” Cas typed pretty quickly with only one hand. Dean thought that he should lean forward and let him type properly, but he let that thought go and actually sunk in closer. “See.”

Dean focused on the screen. “What am I looking at, Cas?”

He pointed at a broad empty space with no roads running through it. “This is where we’re going. There aren’t any roads going into this space though, and the town isn’t on the map. It’s like Cora just doesn’t exist.”

“How do we know this is the location?” Dean asked.

“Sam said that Silas gave him coordinates. He said that the location isn’t on the map because the people in Cora are isolationists. They’ve been living as a community kind of off the grid. Sam believed him, but I just have a hard time believing that any place could be so invisible without some sort of supernatural interference.”

“Not to mention the disappearing articles,” Dean added.

“Yes, there’s that,” Cas said with a sigh. “It’s funny.”

“What’s funny?”

Cas looked at him directly, their noses practically brushing as he did so. “It’s funny how much easier this is with you than it was without you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean that when you and Sam were gone, I tried to keep working cases while looking for you. I thought that it’s what you’d want. You both do so much. You save people, and I didn’t want that to stop while you were gone. I tried to step in and do your part. I was not good at that job.”

Dean hugged him a bit tighter. “You’re plenty good at that job. I imagine that you had a bit too much on your plate, what with the little hellspawn you had to track, Sam and I going MIA, and add to that extra cases. Even one of those tasks is a full time job.”

“You and Sam do all of this kind of work constantly, Mary too. I just…” He trailed off for a moment and then said, “I meant what I said out there before. You’re everything. I’m glad that we don’t have to lose any of the Winchesters.” Cas reached up and ran his hand through his hair in a move that seemed like something very Dean Winchester. He was staring down at the computer now, like he was ready to go back to reading.

“You heard me praying when I was in there didn’t you?” Dean had wondered, but he hadn’t asked before.

“I did, all of it.” Cas looked at him now. There was a look of absolute sadness on his face. “I guess I did too good a job hiding you with all of that.” He pointed a little at Dean’s ribs, signifying the marks that he had set into Sam and Dean’s bones all those years ago.

“Guess so.”

Cas continued, “You didn’t know where you were though, and you couldn’t know what I needed in order to find you.”

“What did you need?” Dean sat up a little more and the vinyl headboard squeaked a bit with the move. He felt Cas’ hand at his back.

“I can follow certain feelings, longing for one. You were concerned, saddened, and in that there was a selfless longing for Sam’s freedom. In all of that though, I couldn’t manage to track where you were with only the feelings. I thought that if I could just get words to you that maybe…”

Dean pulled his arm out from behind Cas, and closed the laptop. He turned to face him more fully now. He settled a hand on Cas’ knee and said, “You did everything you could, and in the end you took a risk all because you wanted to save us, all of us. It’s not like I can hear prayers. You couldn’t change that. Instead, you got to suffer through all of my ramblings.”

Cas dipped his head a little. His lips curled up a bit like he was maybe warmed by Dean’s words. “I did suffer. Your words weren’t ramblings though.” He looked back up at Dean.

Dean remembered the way the prayers had shifted as the days wore on. He said a lot in those prayers. “You don’t say.” His words made no real sense. He watched the way they shifted Cas. He looked disappointed, somehow. So Dean leaned in and kissed him. Cas for his part, did not move away. In fact, Dean thought that he felt his head tip just a little to get a better angle. Dean leaned back into his own space. “You’re everything too, just in case that wasn’t clear. You said that we all matter and stuff, but you matter too. A lot.”

Cas got up out of the bed too quickly for Dean to stop. “Put your shoes on. We’re going for a walk.”

“It’s midnight, Cas.” He was still getting up to put on his shoes even as he said it.

“I know.” Cas stood over him waiting as Dean tied the laces. “Get your coat.” Dean mechanically did as he was told. Cas stood at the door waiting for him.

Dean walked over to the bathroom door and gave it a tap. Sam cracked the door open. “What’s up? You going somewhere?” Sam looked over Dean from head to toe then past him toward Cas at the door.

“Cas just wanted to go for a walk.” He realized how weird this sounded.

Cas interrupted, “You need to sleep, and Dean isn’t tired yet. A short walk should do the trick. We won’t be out for long.”

“Well, okay then.” Sam’s voice sounded like it was full of unasked questions, but he let them go with that. Cas opened the door, and Dean moved to it.

The night air that greeted him was crisp with a threat of winter snow in every breath of it. Dean shivered against it as Cas closed the door behind them and began walking off toward the far end of the building. Dean fell into step at his side. “So, your plan is to freeze me to death?” Dean laughed past another shiver that rattled his voice.

They reached the end of the building. There was a small driveway that snaked around the side to the back of the motel. The asphalt was littered with old cans and wrappers. There were little patches of snow in the field adjacent. Dean watched the wide puff of cold air leave him and go sailing up into the night sky. Cas turned to him and moved in close, sending Dean’s back to the rough motel wall. Dean’s body shivered again but not entirely from the cold. Cas pressed his hands, palms flat, against the wall on either side of Dean’s head. This time, Cas kissed him. It was a rougher kiss than the first one. This kiss was full of desperation, a neediness born of time apart and desires that they never gave voice to.

It was only when the kiss ended that Dean realized that Cas’ hands were still flat against the wall. They stayed close in the moment, staring past the fog of their breaths. “I love you.” It was a simple declaration. Cas’ voice wasn’t timid or quiet. It was steady, anchoring Dean in the moment. It was delivered like a statement of fact, the truest truth ever spoken. “I’ve told you before, but not so that you understood it. I’d have prayed a response to you when you were trapped in that place. I wanted to save you from all of it. You felt abandoned, and I felt like I’d abandoned you. I failed you.”

“You did not fail me,” and when Dean said those words, they were his truth, delivered with the same intensity of Cas’ declaration. “You’ve never failed me.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Cas moved a hand to Dean’s cheek. “You’ve felt my leaving like abandonment every time something pulls me from you.” His thumb stroked a path across his cheek to his hairline. “I feel it. Every time I leave, I feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel your sadness. I feel your want. I feel everything that you feel. It is the nature of our connection.”

“But only when I pray?” It was a whispered question.

“No, I always feel it.” Cas leaned in closer. “Right now, you are excited and also happy.” Cas smiled.

“Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out, Cas.” He smiled back at Cas. “You feel all of it?” The last question was about everything else, everything beyond this place beside the motel in the dark.

“All of it.” Cas dipped in and kissed him lightly again.

“That must be awful sometimes. I’m a bit of a trainwreck.” Dean’s laugh was subdued, a little self-deprecating.

“I love you.” Cas said it again instead of addressing what Dean had said. “What you feel, all of it, it’s all beautiful to me.” He stepped back from Dean for a moment, and Dean felt the cold absence immediately. “I want to do something, but I need your permission.”

“You’ve got it.” Dean responded quickly.

“Wait until you know what you’re consenting to first,” Cas admonished. “If we’re ever separated again, I want you to be able to hear me, to feel that I’m still yours.”

“Cas,” he started, but Cas interrupted him.

“I can adjust our bond. I can make it so that you can hear me, like a prayer. You won’t hear everything, but I can at least send you thoughts, feelings. It would be small, but…”

Dean interrupted, “Yes. I want that.” He thought of all the times he just wanted to know what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He thought of all the times he just needed to hear his voice. He wanted this. He wanted this more than he could say. Cas pressed his forehead to Dean’s and a warm flow of grace slipped from Cas’s mouth to Dean’s. Dean felt all his muscles suddenly stiffen. He slammed back against the rough motel wall.

His eyes rolled back, and he clenched his teeth. Cas was unwavering in front of him. Just as quickly as it began, the moment ceased. Dean felt his muscles give out, and he would have sunk to the floor if not for Cas catching him. _I love you._ Now that Cas had said it, it seemed like it was going to be an ongoing mantra. Then Dean realized that the words were just in his head. “You heard me?”

“You said, ‘I love you.’” Dean held tightly to Cas’ arms which were around him.

“And I do. And I want you always to hear it.” Cas kissed his forehead and guided him back to the room. It was late after all, and the day had been long.

 

 

He left Cas to rest some more, heading back out to watch the Cora Homecoming parade. Doc had said that he’d likely wake up soon and that they needn’t worry. Dean staked out a spot next to Sam and Old Mo. The various cobbled-together floats made their way down the street. Some of them supporting Downtown Cora High School and some supporting Rural Cora High School. There were cheerleaders for both teams and pep bands that played from atop flower-covered trailers pulled behind Chevy trucks. Old Mo pointed at one of the floats making its way up the street. It was a large float with the DCHS mascot taking up most of it. The kids and their parents made all the floats. This one was the best by far.

It was a tall vulture made of thousands of flowers. Old Mo had said that the school’s Ag department had been growing the flowers all year for this. The bird was stunning. The kids marching at the sides of the float had poles affixed to the underside of the wings, and they were raising and lowering them as they walked. Some of the petals of the dyed black flowers fluttered off of the bird and were carried away on the breeze.

“The beauty of it is seen in the little details,” Old Mo said.

“You don’t say,” Dean said as he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The crowd was cheering and the band was playing a hearty marching tune.

“Look at the trail it’s leaving behind.” Old Mo waved a hand at it, and Dean looked at the tail end of it.

“Looks like it’s glowing,” Sam offered up. “Is that coming from the flowers?”

“Sure is.” Old Mo beamed with pride.

A small girl approached them from the parade with a flower in her hand and beckoned to Sam. He stooped down to her level. “Well, hello there little Missy.”

“Hello, Sam.” She reached out to his head and brushed back his hair. She put a flower over his ear. “For you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said as he stood back up.

Dean said, “What am I, chopped liver?” The little girl just shrugged at him, and smiling, bounded back off toward the parade. “Sam Winchester, lover of dogs, player of checkers, tamer of children, wearer of flowers, second of his line.”

“If you call me mother of dragons, I’ll throw this flower right at you.” Sam laughed and Dean laughed too.

“She’s adorable.” Dean leaned into the side of the post that ran up to the wooden overhang that extended from the general store. “She have parents? Seems like every time I’ve seen her, she’s just running around downtown on her own.”

Old Mo said, “She’s got a very devoted mother. She also gets a lot of freedom. She and her mother have been waiting a long time for something stable to come about for them, but…” Old Mo’s voice drifted off like the petals on the parade floats. Sam was staring off at the procession.

“I never did catch her name, just started calling her Missy every time she popped over,” Sam said.

“Her name’s Beth,” Old Mo said.

Sam repeated the name, “Beth.”

“Oh, looks like she fell,” Old Mo started to shuffle off toward her to help. She had been part of the parade. She must have tripped over the pothole in the road. Sam reached out to Mo and stalked off into the street toward the girl.

“Looks like Sam’s got this,” Dean said, and Old Mo stayed at his side.

“He’s a good man, your brother.” Old Mo had a cane that he was leaning heavily on at the moment.

“He is.” Dean grinned at Sam as he stooped to help the little girl. Her hair was hanging in her face, a mop of chestnut brown waves. Then a woman showed up at their side. _The mother?_ “Always thought he’d make a good father. Too bad he never got that opportunity.”

“Never too late to change that.”

Dean hummed a bit at that and then said, “Our line of work doesn’t lead to that sort of thing.”

Old Mo considered him for a moment. “What is your line of work exactly? I honestly don’t remember you mentioning it.”

Dean considered this for a moment. It wasn’t that he was constructing a lie; it was just that he couldn’t exactly remember what they did. He shook his head and felt dizzy. “I don’t,” he stopped and stared off at Sam a moment. Sam looked concerned. He was holding the arm of the woman. They were talking. Dean couldn’t hear at this distance. There was a stronger breeze blowing past them, and more petals were carried from the floats down the street and away.

“You okay, Dean?” Old Mo’s wrinkled face was all concerned.

“I think something’s wrong. I can’t remember what we did.” Dean was doing his best to not sound panicked.

“Maybe we should have Doc take a look at you. Maybe you got a concussion too, like your friend up there.” Old Mo settled a hand on Dean’s arm and gave him a little tug toward the street.

“A concussion?”

“Yes, from the accident.” Mo looked concerned now too. “You don’t remember the accident?” They were crossing the street between the floats and the procession of bands. Sam and the woman were helping the little girl to her feet. “Sam, I’m taking your brother to see Doc. Seems like he maybe has a concussion too.”

Sam let go of the woman’s arm. Dean couldn’t focus on her, or anything else. _I love you._ The words were back in his head. The familiar rough voice called out to him. “Do you remember an accident?” Dean asked.

“Of course. Cas is laid out up in the house there because of it.” Sam looked at him like he was trying to read him.

“No, I mean, do you remember the details of it? I only seem to know the outcome.”

Old Mo said, “A truck hit you when you crossed the double yellow on the old rural road. That turn’s a doozy. We thought that it only really hurt your friend because he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. He got flung through your windshield. You and Sam were belted in, so less damage to you both.”

Dean processed that as best he could. “But I drove the Impala today. It’s not damaged.” He looked down the street to try to find it.

“No, you drove Gerald’s old truck. Your car is at the shop. You said, that you just needed a space to do the repairs, and Gerald said you could use his shop. He offered the truck when you seemed like you’d be here awhile.” Sam reached out to him and gave his arm a squeeze while Old Mo, shared the very unfamiliar details.

“How long has it been?” Dean managed to ask.

“Just a couple of days,” Old Mo replied. “Let’s get you to Doc. I’m more than a bit concerned about you now.” He gave Dean’s arm another tug. Sam walked at his side as they crossed toward the building that Cas was in. _At least I can remember that much._

_I love you._

He leaned into Sam then and said, “Do you remember any of this?”

“You hit your head pretty hard on the side window. I have bits and pieces of it in my head, but it feels more like a dream.” Sam suddenly looked back over his shoulder to the street that they had crossed and the parade.

Dean turned too. The woman and the child were crossing toward the general store, “Something worrying you?”

Sam shook his head and said, “Yeah, but it’s not important right now. Let’s just get you checked out.” They entered the building, and Dean resigned himself to what was coming.

 

 

Cas got him settled back into the motel bed. Dean felt so tired he was barely functioning, yet at the same time, he was not so tired as to forego attempts at something with Cas. When Cas was about to steal away from him, Dean reached out and caught his hand. “I saved a spot for you.” He patted the bed on the other side. He glanced over at the other bed, at Sam so invested in his sleep that his mouth was wide open toward the ceiling.

Cas rounded the bed and got in next to Dean. “You need to sleep if you’re going to drive tomorrow. We should arrive while it’s still daylight.”

“I can let Sam drive,” Dean offered. The thought of curling up in the back seat with Cas sounded appealing in the moment, until he remembered that they’d be far from alone. _It’s just the sleep talking._

_Is it?_ Cas’ lip curled up in a way that seemed to mock him a little.

“So you’re going to use this new bond against me now, huh?” Dean swooped in and kissed him quick before he could answer.

Cas just shrugged. “This does have some benefits.” Dean felt a warmth wash over him, then an image.

“Whoa,” he started and then closed his eyes. His whole body felt like it was engulfed in warm sea water. Cas was everywhere, and nowhere. Dean could feel his body responding to the unique intimacy of the moment. _You keep going, and I can’t promise that this’ll be a hands-free event._

_Sorry. Perhaps when we get to Virginia then._ Dean opened his eyes to that.

“I didn’t mean stop.”

“Go to sleep Dean. I’ll walk in your dreams like I use to.” He brushed a hand over his hair, cupping his cheek at the end. Dean felt a glorious dizziness overtake him as he stared into the deep blue of Cas’ eyes. Cas laid down more fully at Dean’s side and draped his other arm over Dean’s waist. “Sleep.” Dean stifled a yawn, but did close his eyes in an attempt at compliance.


	2. What Is, What Was, Whatever Shall Be

> _ “Are there not sons and daughters who have parents living with them as angels unawares - husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, in whom the material for a beautiful life lies locked away in unfruitful silence - who give time to everything but the cultivation and expression of mutual love?”   _ Harriet Beecher Stowe,  _ Little Foxes _

 

_ _

 

Doc was looking into his eyes with one of those light up things. Dean blinked at the invasive light and tried not to crack any jokes. “Well, looks like you got a concussion too. Shoulda looked you over better before. Sorry ‘bout that.” He gave Dean’s knee a good natured pat. He got up and turned to Sam. “I should probably check you out again too, make sure I didn’t miss anything.” 

“Sure,” Sam said, taking a seat next to Dean. They were in Cas’ room again. It was rather spacious, more like an apartment than a hotel room normally would be. 

Doc peered into Sam’s eyes and asked him some questions. Dean tuned them out and walked over to Cas. He settled into the side of the bed and rested a hand on his arm.  _ I love you. _

_ I picked up on that. Got anything new to tell me? _ Dean delivered sarcasm even in his imagination.

He was rewarded for his efforts.  _ I can’t wake up. _

_ What’s happening?  _ Dean asked.

_ I don’t know. I thought that you couldn’t hear me, so I just went with what worked before. _

Dean thought about that a moment, tried to remember the story behind the “I love yous.”  _ I wasn’t sure what was going on. I kept hearing it over and over. Thought my head was broken. Turns out I maybe have a concussion. You do too. _

_ No, I don’t. I’m an angel. This is something else, something powerful. You need to find out what’s doing this so I can wake up. _ Dean gave his arm a squeeze and looked over at Sam who was still being examined. Cas is an angel. That was news. He shook his head again, to try to get some of the memories back into place. 

_ I’ll figure this out Cas. I’ll talk to Old Mo some more. I think he might know some things. _

_ I don’t know Old Mo. Who is that? _

_ He’s the guy that kind of took us in after the accident. He and Mab. Anyway, if anyone knows what’s happening it’s him. _

_ You need to hurry. I need to get out of here. _

Cas’ words unsettled Dean a little. True, he needed to wake up, but this place was great. Why would they need to leave? _ You really want to leave? _

_ Obviously something is very wrong here. Leaving is necessary.  _ Cas fell silent a moment. He was silent already, but his thoughts stopped coming through too. Dean gave his arm a little squeeze. He had thought that they’d stay. He’d thought that they’d make a life in this place.  _ It feels strange, like something’s squeezing my head.  _ Cas went silent again. Dean rubbed small circles into his arm then.  _ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

It was like Cas was stuck on repeat again. Dean was worried for a moment. Old Mo walked up behind him and settled a hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was a comfort, and it made some of the worry wash away. Dean leaned down and kissed Cas on the forehead, the string of “I love yous” still flowed through his head.  _ Then come back to me. _

__

__

The snow was coming down in little flurries as they crossed the stateline into Virginia. The roads were pretty clear though. Dean was grateful for that, because it meant that he wouldn’t need snow chains on the Impala. There was also the old comfort that came from knowing that the roads were covered in vast quantities of salt. That always helped a bit with the supernatural.

Sam was tuning out for a bit. He had his headphones pressed into his ears. He said he was listening to a podcast. Dean wondered if it was really just a bad 80s band. He planned to harass him a bit, but then Cas’ voice came through loud and clear.  _ Don’t harass your brother. _

_ Seriously?  _ Dean glanced up into the mirror at Cas just to see if he was imagining it. He couldn’t tell for sure. Cas looked exactly the same as he always looked.  _ Lick your lips. _

_ Why? _

_ I wanna see if what I’m hearing is really you or if I’m just imagining. _ Dean glanced back, and Cas didn’t comply.  _ Humor me. _

Cas licked his lips.  _ Happy now? _

_ Very. Now why can’t I bug Sam? _

Cas glanced over at Sam and then back at Dean in the mirror.  _ He didn’t sleep well. He’s worried about the case and what we’re heading for. He didn’t talk to you much about Silas. They became close friends for a short period. Sam trusts him. I’m not sure that the trust is something that Silas deserves, but Sam won’t hear anything contrary. When you were gone, Silas was a comfort. _

_ I didn’t know that. I thought he was mostly alone. _

_ He had a broken arm. There was more to that story. You should ask him to tell you what he couldn’t before. It might be good for you both. _ Cas leaned forward and rested his head on the seat between them. Sam glanced down at him and smiled. They’d all grown comfortable with each other over their years together. Dean wondered how hard he’d have to fight to keep this.

Waking up with Cas had been a good thing in an otherwise shitty year. Their limbs were all tangled up together. Sam, for his part, didn’t say anything. He just got up and got ready like it was a normal day. Dean was grateful for that. When they left the motel to go get some breakfast, Sam tossed an arm over each of their shoulders and walked between them with a wide grin on his face. Dean had considered asking why he was so happy, but he didn’t need to do that. He already knew.

With any luck they’d reach Cora sometime in the late afternoon. Sam had traced their journey out on one of the paper maps in the glovebox. He had it opened up on his lap. The snow was getting thicker at the sides of the road. The heater was cranked up full blast to stave off the cold outside. “It’s getting bad out there,” Dean mutttered.

“At least we’re almost there,” Cas said. “Where do we begin when we get there?”

“Been thinking about it. Seems like with a quarantine, we’ll have to talk to some military types. Might be a good idea to go in as CDC or something.” Dean reached over and gave Sam’s knee a little whack. Sam pulled out his earphone. “Was just saying to Cas that maybe we go in as CDC unless you have a different idea.”

“CDC sounds right. It’s either that or military. Given our recent run in, I don’t feel much like going down that path.”

“So we should stop before we hit the town and change. Pretty sure this isn’t exactly CDC attire,” Cas said as he gestured toward each of them.

“Yeah, your trench coat ain’t exactly standard issue either,” Dean offered.

“There is nothing wrong with my coat.” Cas sounded personally affronted.

“Maybe if you like walking around looking like a mushroom,” Dean laughed. 

Cas looked at Sam and said, “I don’t look like fungus.” 

Sam shrugged and said, “Don’t pull me into your little domestic drama.” He acted like he was going to put his headphone back in his ear, but he didn’t.

Cas turned back to Dean. He looked serious all of a sudden, and Dean stopped laughing. “It seems that you have a fondness for mushrooms then.” He looked rather triumphant actually.

“Uh, that was below the belt.”

“You wish.” Cas leaned back into the seat and Sam quickly put the headphone back on before he heard anything more.

“If I recall, you use to have a better coat. This one is not exactly flattering. Not sure if you remember, but I hauled that other coat around in the trunk of my car for a damn year when I thought I’d lost you.”

Sam must have been listening, because he chimed in with, “Even caught him sleeping on it once.”

Dean gave him a little whack. “Shut it. Not helping.” Dean drummed at the steering wheel then continued, “Now that was a good coat, a respectable coat. Nothing mushroom-like about that coat.”

“So you have a thing for coats?” Cas leaned back up to the space between them again. “Duly noted.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean turned to him a little.

“Duly noted.” Cas turned his attention to the road in front of them as they rounded a bend in the tight rural road. The mountainside ran steeply up to a peak, while the side they were driving on was a craggy cliff. Dean crossed the yellow line. Cas let out a small huff that threw Dean’s attention back to the road. Dean maybe got focused on Cas or Sam a million times while he was driving, and it had never caused an ounce of trouble. Today though, today was not their day.

There was a truck, and snow. So much happened in a second as he slammed his foot on the brake. He saw it all like slow motion. There was a man standing in the shoulder of the road, watching it all unfold. They hit the truck and spun. Cas shot past them through the windshield. Sam was gripping the dash. Dean was gripping the steering wheel as they spun. The car came to a stop when it slammed into the side of the mountain. Dean’s head hit the window next to him. He felt the warm trickle of blood in his scalp, glass falling out of his hair when he leaned forward.

He reached out for Sam, before he even turned his head. “Sammy?” Sam didn’t respond; his head was slumped forward onto his chest. Dean tried to focus. His vision was spinning. In the distance there were glowing fields that looked like golden ocean waves. The edges of his vision darkened. “Cas?” Dean focused on the space in front of him. He thought he saw the brown trench coat, and maybe Cas standing up. “Cas?” he called again. There was movement, then there was darkness. 

__

__

They finally let him sleep. He curled up next to Cas and caught a full eight hours. It was probably the concussion that kept him under. He chose not to think about how you weren’t supposed to sleep so long when you had a concussion. He got up out of the bed and noticed that Sam was already out of the room. He changed and stumbled off down the stairs to get some breakfast. Doc was in the hall. “Mornin’ Dean.”

“Mornin’ Doc. You gonna check on Cas?”

“Was planning on it. I’ll sit with him while you get your breakfast.” He gave Dean a warm smile and went into the room. Dean made his way down to the main dining area. He looked over the crowd for Sam. 

Mab, the owner of the place, caught his eye over the crowds of diners and gave him a wave. Dean snaked his way around tables full of families chatting up a storm. The room was a low rumble of noise. He got to Mab’s side and asked, “Seen Sam?”

“He’s in the other room. It got too crowded in here.” She waved at the main dining hall. Her eyes were blue and her hair was a pile of white puffy clouds on her head. She smiled with a radiance that welcomed one and all. She’d taken them into her place without a second thought, and so far money hadn’t even exchanged hands. She gave his arm a little squeeze and sent him off past her toward the room that Sam was in.

Dean found him easily. He was seated next to the long rows of books that lined shelves in the reading room. Dean took a seat opposite him. It was much quieter here. “She letting you eat in here?”

Sam smiled over his mug of coffee. “Yeah, I was surprised. Guess she likes us. I ordered you some food too.”

“Thank God. I’m starving.” Dean felt his body sinking into the plush velvet chair as he sat back. 

“Cas wake up yet?” Sam asked.

“No,” Dean whispered. He felt weird about it. He could feel the constant pull to do something, but he didn’t know what.

“You doing okay?” Sam reached over and set a hand on his knee.

“I think so. I still don’t remember some things.” Dean shook his head again, like he could knock the memories back to the front.

“Doc say anything about that?” Sam’s brows crinkled together in concern. 

“No, I sent him in to check on Cas.” Mab came over then and set some food on the little coffee table between them. “Wow, thanks.” Dean slapped his hands together and rubbed them with glee. The plates in front of him were heavy with eggs, bacon, toast, and potatoes.

“I’ll grab you a cup of coffee too.” She donned a stern look then added, “Now you boys get to eat in my fancy parlor, but only if you don’t make my books greasy. So, don’t spill a crumb in here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they both said in unison. She smiled and headed back out to get the coffee.

“You better put that book back.” Dean waved at the book in Sam’s hand.

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned back and slipped it into an empty space on the shelf. Mab came back with his coffee and set it on the table next to his food. She gave him a little pat of affection as she left. “So, you think we should take Cas to a hospital maybe?”

“Not sure. I mean, what would they do that Doc can’t?” Dean felt his head growing dizzy again. He pressed his palms to his eyes. “Cas is an angel.”

“Huh?” Sam asked.

Dean lowered his hands and stared at Sam. “Cas is an angel. Hospital won’t help him. This is something else.” The thought settled into his mind, and took up residence.  _ How’d I forget that? _

Sam just stared for a moment longer before he spoke. “He is. I must have hit my head pretty hard too. I forgot that.”

“No, we didn’t forget. Something is making us forget.” Dean looked around the room. “How long we been here?”

“A day or two,” Sam answered non-committally.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that you don’t know exactly?”

“Sure, might just be the concussion though.” Sam looked around the room now too, like he wanted to be sure that they had some privacy. “We hit a truck. There was snow.”

“Yes, I was worried about putting chains on the car.” Dean leaned forward. “We’re hunters.”

“Yeah, there was a case.”

Dean looked back and then at Sam again. “What’s going on? Why can’t we remember stuff? There’s no snow. It’s summer. How long have we been here?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked worried now too. “Another question, why can we suddenly remember things? What changed?”

“Maybe something with Cas?” Dean asked. Dean scooped up some food and ate through half the plate quickly. “Finish up and we’ll all go take a drive together.”

“Cas is unconscious, and the car is in the shop.” Sam still scooped up food and ate most of what was set before him. 

“I don’t think the car is hurt so bad. I drove her yesterday. I’ve been working on her for days at the shop.” He looked back at the doorway behind him. “And Cas, he’ll come to if we get him out of town. I’m certain of it. There’s something here that’s doing this.”

They both got up at the same time and made their way up to the room. The crowds were still present, their talk all noise. They went into the room, and Cas was as they had left him. Doc was seated in a chair next to the bed, reading a book. “Hi there boys. He’s still asleep.”

“Unconscious.” Dean’s voice carried a slight growl. “We’re taking him out for a drive.”

Doc’s brow arched up high into his forehead. “That seems like a terrible idea.”

“We’re full of terrible ideas,” Sam said. “We think he needs to breathe fresh country air. He’s been unconscious too long.”

“Well, we get all the country air you need right here. Just crack open a window.” Doc got up and moved toward a window. 

“No, we’re taking him out,” Dean said.

“You really think that’s gonna make him come to?” Doc asked.

“Don’t see you offering up any better solutions,” Dean said.

“Well, I reckon he’s only still unconscious ‘cause you want him that way.” Doc nodded down at Cas.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean moved toward him all menace and threat.

Doc raised a hand between them and said, “Just that, sometimes if you want something badly enough, if you pray about it hard enough, it just might come to you. The Lord works in mysterious ways ya know.” 

“I ain’t the praying kind,” Dean said.

“Oh, now that ain’t so at all. You’ve been praying up a blue streak since you crossed the county line. You want him to stay with you. You want him to live,” he paused a moment, then added, “at your side. You want to make a life separate from all that,” Doc waved a hand at the window signifying everything beyond it.

“How do you know anything about what I pray or don’t pray?”

“Your friend there isn’t the only one picking up on your prayers. Others have heard them too, loud and clear. We want to help you. Let us help you.”

Sam chose this moment to interrupt. “What is it that you’re offering? Who are you?”

“Names are powerful things. I won’t be offering that just yet. I will offer you peace though, should you choose to accept it. This place can be home, let it be that for you, for him too.” He nodded down at Cas now, and looked positively benevolent. “We've gone through this song and dance before. You always choose this. Why can't you just let this be easy?”

“We’re going.” Dean leaned down to Cas and slid his arm under him. He lifted him out of the bed and the sheets and blankets fell to the side. “Come on Sam.” Dean stalked toward the door.

“Maybe you should try praying for him to come to. See what happens. See what he wants.” Doc walked over to Dean and set a hand on his shoulder. “I mean, it seems only fair.”

Dean stared at him, and felt the waves of dizziness run through his mind.  _ I love you. _ He heard the words loud and clear, a melody on wind.

Dean prayed. It feels like an old prayer, like something he'd prayed before long ago.  _ I know it won’t make a difference, but I want you to wake up. I want you to come back. Open your eyes. Talk to me, Cas. I’m praying to you, to anyone that can get you back to rights. Open your eyes for me. _

He stood there a moment, half expecting Cas to suddenly comply. He didn’t at first. He was heavy though, and Dean thought that he needed to get moving before the dead weight of him got to being too much. “Come on Sam.” Dean started to move for the door. Cas opened his eyes. “Holy shit.”

“Hello, Dean.”

__

__

He couldn’t remember what the last thing was that he saw. He remembered driving. He thought that they might have crashed. Everything was warm though. He had crisp sheets over his body, and a glance to the right showed him that Sam was in the other bed, looking peaceful. Dean thought that someone else was supposed to be there with them. He shook his head to get awake. 

The door cracked open and an old head poked past the space. “Oh, good, you’re awake.” The man committed to the room a bit more. 

“Where am I?” Dean asked, voice cracking seemingly from disuse.

“You’re in Cora, son.” The old man dragged a chair over to the side of the bed. “Name’s Mo.” He settled a hand on Dean’s arm and said, “And you are Dean Winchester, if your ID is anything to go by. Or maybe you're Sammy Hagar. Sounds unlikely, but I don't know though. You all had a lot of IDs.”

Dean felt dizzy all of a sudden, like the bed was tipping and he would be falling at any moment. “I don’t remember how I got here?”

“You had an accident.” Mo waved a hand out to the door that he just came through. “Your other friend is in the other room. Mab gave you the suite, since there were three of you, and you seemed to need a bit of medical attention.”

“There was an accident?” Dean started to sit up, but stopped when Mo put a hand on his chest to keep him down. Everything was swimming around him.

“You should stay where you are. Doc said you’re still healing.”

“How long we been here?” Dean asked.

“Just a couple of days. Not long.”

“My car?”

“It’s at Gerald’s. Don’t worry.” Mo gave his leg a pat as he spoke. “He your brother?” Mo waved at Sam in the other bed.

“Yeah, I…” Dean squinted at him. “Yeah.” He was having a hard time remembering for sure just who he was let alone the man that was next to him. His long mop of hair was fanned out on the pillow around his head like he was some sort of angel or something. He almost laughed, because it looked like someone had maybe messed with him a bit. “He okay?”

“Oh, yes. You don’t need to worry one bit. Doc said you are all going to be just fine.”

Dean turned his attention back to Mo and said, “Who’s Doc?”

The door opened again as he asked it, and an older man carrying a black satchel came in. “That would be me. Just finished up with your friend out there. How you feeling, Dean?”

“Dizzy.” Sam stirred next to him as he spoke. “You sure he’s okay?”

Doc went over to Sam and rested a hand on his forehead. “He’s not running a fever. Just a matter of time before he wakes up. Bet if we pray about it, that’ll do the trick.” He smiled a big toothy grin.

“So nothing medical you can do for him?” Dean felt an odd vibration of nervousness flow through him.

“Not the praying type, huh?” He came over to Dean then. “Good thing our community has enough faith for even the faithless. Perhaps we'll win you over to our way of thinking in time.”

“Your way of thinking?” His head hurt too much for this.

“Yes, the faithful path. We in Cora, we take care of each other. Our faith sustains us.”

Dean turned to Mo then to see if this was the community message or if Doc here was just a bit more into the faith talk all on his own. Mo just smiled though and gave him nothing to go on. “Hate to ask, but you got any food?”

“Now that’s a good sign.” Mo moved away from him to the door. “I’ll get Mab to send up some lunch.” Dean really wanted Sam to wake up. 

Sam stirred again and this time opened his eyes. He groaned out a pained noise. Doc turned his attention back to Sam. “Ah, good. You woke up. Guess your brother finally decided to try his faith.”

“Don’t blame me.” Dean sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He regretted the suddenness of his moves when dizziness struck him again. “Whoa.”

“Be careful. I don’t think I’ll be able to lift you if you fall down. Mo and I are too old for the heavy lifting.”

“I’ll try to stay off the floor.” Dean gripped the side of the mattress. 

“Water?” Sam asked in a crackling voice.

“Got it.” Doc poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand that was between the beds. He ran a hand behind Sam’s shoulders and eased him up into a sitting position. He tipped the glass to his lips. “Here ya go.” Sam sipped at it. 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked.

Sam finally looked at him. “Who are you?” Dean just stared at him.

“I’m your brother.” Dean shot a glance at Doc. “He doesn’t know me.” Of course Dean didn’t even know Sam a few minutes ago.

Sam stared hard at him past a squint. “Dean?” He said it more as a question, like he was testing the word. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Dean.” Dean wanted to try standing, but he worried about his legs. They felt wobbly even while he wasn’t using them. 

Doc said, “And your other brother is in the other room.”

“Other brother?” Dean asked. 

“The dark haired one in the brown coat. Although, maybe he’s just a friend. Neither of you really look like him at all.” 

Mo came back in with a tray and food. He set it on the end of Dean’s bed. I had Mab throw together a hodge podge of different things. We’ve got a yogurt parfait with pomegranate seeds and granola. We’ve got a turkey sandwich. We’ve got a reuben on swirled rye. All quite good.”

Doc took the yogurt and settled into the space next to Sam, preparing to help him eat. Sam looked like he’d accept the help too. Dean glanced down at the reuben. “I don’t need help.” He reached out and took the reuben. He ate it with zero effort at neatness. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. He could feel the weight of the food as it hit his stomach like a brick. “Thanks,” he said around a mouthful. Mo grinned at him then looked to Doc. Dean turned to see how Sam was faring and noted how Doc was smiling back at Mo, like they’d just won the goddamn lottery. Dean decided not to worry. The sandwich was too good to ignore after all.

 

* * *

 

Morning passed into evening and then night. Mo lead them out to the main street and showed them the small slice of Cora that they could have seen entirely from their window. He also walked with them down to Gerald’s auto shop at the end of the street. Dean caught sight of Baby immediately. She was rather beat up. “Oh, girl.” He rushed over to her and dragged a gentle hand over her dented and broken body.

Sam came to his side then. “You think you can fix her?”

“It’d be easier in my own place. What’re the chances this guy will want a stranger using his shop?” Dean sounded a touch defeated. 

“You could always ask him. I hear he’s a sorry son of a bitch, but he’s not half bad once you take a moment to get to know him.” A thin man in his mid-fifties, if Dean were to guess, stepped up to the car and looked from one face to the next. His eyes were dark brown to match his hair. He was all varying shades of earth tones with splashes of grey here and there to mix up the palette. 

“Boys, this here is Gerald.” Mo waved a hand between them. “And Gerald, these boys are Sam and Dean Winchester. They have another fellow back at Mab’s place.”

Gerald held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you both.” He shook each in turn. “And though you didn’t ask outright, I’m fine with you working on your car here. I don’t get much work here, so the space is often available.”

Dean said, “Well, that’s plenty generous. I’ll pay you of course.”

Gerald laughed and waved off the offer. “Not necessary. We do things the small town way. We help out just to help out.”

Mo spoke up then. “I think these boys aren’t use to that so much. Seems like they’re waiting for us to hand them a giant bill that says thanks for letting us save you from that crash now give us some cash.”

Sam said, “Sorry. We aren’t used to so much kindness.” He smiled at Mo and Dean nodded to show that he agreed. 

After a moment, Gerald offered to show them all around the shop. Dean took a particular interest in it all. Sam seemed a touch distracted. He kept glancing out the window at the main street. Eventually Mo said, “How about I show Sam around the rest of the town while you get to work on your car. It’ll likely be nice for you to get to it, I reckon.” Sam seemed content with the plan, and Dean was all too happy to get his Baby back in something like pristine condition.

“Sounds good to me.” Dean came back to his car and Gerald followed him. “So, if you really don’t mind, I’ll get to it then.” 

“Have at it,” Gerald said.

 

* * *

 

The days passed or maybe they didn’t. Dean was having trouble keeping track of time. Sam found ways to occupy himself. Some days he’d just be sitting out in front of the market with Mo, playing checkers, others he’d be helping out this dark haired young woman that ran the local preschool. How he found her, Dean wasn’t sure. Most days felt a little foggy, like he was forgetting something important. He mentioned it to Doc, who said, maybe it was just his brain getting over the concussion. He told him to give it a couple of days before worrying.

The repairs on the car were coming along nicely. Gerald even had a new windshield that by some miracle came from a real ‘67 Impala. Dean started to question the likelihood of such a miracle happening just by chance like this, but he worried that questioning it would make it cease to be, as if that was how the world worked. 

Midday rolled around, and Dean walked around the car to assess his progress. He thought about what he should do next. Gerald strolled in from out back. “Lookin’ good, Winchester. Might have to offer you a job when all this is done. You got skills.” He rounded the car now too and gave it an appreciative whistle.

“Feels like I’ve done this a few times, but I hardly remember. The concussion really did a number on me.” He smiled down at his handiwork though. He really was proud of the whole thing.

“Well, it really is a glorious machine. I was just popping in to say that I’m heading over to the hardware store. Need to pick up a garden hose and some fence nails for the backyard.” Gerald started to head for the door. 

Dean stopped him. “I can take care of that if you want. I was looking for a break anyway.”

Gerald rolled a shoulder. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Dean moved toward the door. “It’s just the hardware store on the corner, right?”

“Only one in town.” Gerald laughed. 

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“Take your time. Not good for you to stay cooped up in here all day.” Gerald waved him off toward the door.

The sunlight outside was bright with summertime brilliance. Dean sucked in a deep lungful of the honey-sweet air. He strolled toward the covered sidewalk. It was like something out of an old west movie he once saw. The sidewalks were all raised slats of wood. The shops were all quaint. He was a little surprised that there wasn’t a saloon with a buxom middle-aged woman hanging out, beckoning in passersby. 

He walked past Sam and Mo playing their game. “Hey, Dean,” Sam said as he passed.

“Hey, Sam. You losing?”

Mo laughed, “He’s losing badly. I might have to let him win so that he’ll keep playing with me.” 

“Maybe we should play chess,” Sam offered.

Dean laughed and continued on his path to the hardware store. The town felt like home after just a few days. People waved at him as he passed and gave him good natured nods of welcome too. He liked it here even if he couldn’t shake the fact that something seemed to be missing. He passed a woman with deep chestnut brown hair and bright blue eyes. She was stunning, and entirely his type. He could feel his cheeks blooming with the stupid grin that he knew he was throwing her way.

_ Maybe that’s what’s missing. _ He thought as he tripped over his own feet. She laughed at him and kept walking. Dean kept walking too, and didn’t turn to watch her go. He found himself whistling a little tune though. His step had a little more spring to it. He came to the hardware store and before going in closed his eyes a moment. He took another deep breath of air and tried to clear his head.

He found that he had to do that every now and then. His mind was a constant foggy mess. He reached out to the door and went in. The door had one of those little bell things that dinged out a welcome each time someone entered. There was a man behind the counter that looked up as Dean entered. 

Dean sucked in a deep breath and froze where he was standing.  _ Shit. _ Dean couldn’t stop staring. The man stared back. Moments passed, but it felt like he was standing there all afternoon, just looking at him and being looked at in return. He finally took a step forward. It seemed to break the spell that had settled over them both.

_ He is some sort of extra level of gorgeous. _ Dean shook his head, because when did he ever think like that? The man had bright blue eyes that seemed to stare right through him. His hair was a deep, dark brown. Dean wanted to run his fingers through it. Instead he walked right up to the counter and just stood there. “Can I help you?”  _ The voice, _ Dean thought.  _ Shit. _

Dean remembered that he needed to actually say words out loud. “I don’t know.”  _ That was the worst answer ever. Why the hell am I here?  _ Dean shook his head again and resumed staring.

“Well, if you think of something, let me know. I’m here all day.”

And the voice rolled over Dean like a warm summer breeze. He wanted to say something witty. He wanted to impress this guy with his vast sum of knowledge on something, anything.  _ I know nothing. _ Dean tried to remember literally anything from literally any part of his existence and came up with random non-word sounds instead. That was not helping him in any way.

“You live around here?” Dean asked and then immediately cursed himself.  _ Cora is in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. Of course he lives here, idiot. _

The guy didn’t make fun of him though. He just smiled and said, “Yes. I have a room at Mab’s place.” Dean found himself staring at the mouth that shared the words, licking his own lips as he watched the man speak. 

Somehow he must have also realized that he looked like a creep doing that, and covered with more words. “My name’s Dean. I’m not from around here.”

The smile Dean got back was cute.  _ Shit.  _ Dean felt his stomach do a little flippy thing as he thought about the smile, the mouth, the whole package. “My name’s Cas. I’m new here too.”

Dean smiled back, big and goofy. He drummed at the counter and tried to find more words, words that would maybe make Cas want to smile again. “I’m staying at Mab’s too. Surprised I haven’t seen you around.”

“I work over here a lot. Maybe we don’t keep the same hours,” Cas offered. 

Dean leaned into the counter a little which brought his head in close to Cas’. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to accomplish by creating a little more intimacy, but he certainly wasn’t disappointed by the way that Cas leaned in closer too. “Hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I’d like to keep the same hours, at least some of them anyway.”

Cas sucked in a deep breath and said, “I get off at 6:00. When do you get off?”

“Whenever I can.” The words felt familiar. Dean caught a little flicker in Cas’ eyes like he was processing the joke. He watched the edges of Cas’ lips twitch into a grin. 

“Are you here to buy something or just flirt with the help?” Cas leaned back from him a little and adopted a more business like tone.

“A little from column A and a little from column B. I like to keep my options open.” Dean smirked and took a step away from the counter. “You have garden hoses and fence nails?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Cas replied.

Dean laughed. “That’s an old one.” 

“What?”

“The joke. It’s old.” Cas rounded the counter and came to Dean’s side.

“Funny, I only just heard it the other day. I don’t get out much.” Cas guided him to the back of the store. For no good reason, the garden hoses were stashed on top of one of the high shelves. Cas went off to get a step ladder. He positioned it and climbed up to get the hose. “This the one you want?” He held it out for Dean to see. Dean nodded and let his eyes drag down Cas’ body. His shirt was not tucked in, and when he stretched up to get the hose, Dean got a little view of well-tanned skin.

Cas climbed down and handed the hose to Dean. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” They made their way back to the counter. Cas grabbed a box of nails on the way. “You charging this?”

Dean pulled out his wallet and fumbled for his credit cards. “Yeah.” He didn’t want to use a fake name here for some reason, but his cards were all fraudulent.

Cas waved a hand at him. “No, we don’t take those here. I meant, do you want to put this on an account?”

“I don’t have one of those. I’m just picking these up for Gerald over at the auto shop.”

Cas smiled at him and bagged the items. “Lucky for you he has an account.” He slid the bag across the counter, took out a ledger and jotted in the items next to Gerald’s name. When he finished he looked back up at Dean. “You never said when you’d be getting off work.”

“Oh, I can get off at any time.” Dean waggled his brows a little. He realized that he was maybe being a little ridiculous with the innuendos. “Sorry, I have no filter.” 

Cas laughed at him. “You feel familiar, Dean.”

“You too Cas.”

“Why don’t you come by here at 6:00. We can walk back to Mab’s together.”

“What, you aren’t gonna buy me dinner first?” Dean was doing the stupid grinning thing again.

“Do you require dinner first?” Now it was Dean’s turn to be surprised. “I mean, we can prolong the inevitable if you want.”

“Shit, Cas. Where have you been my whole life?”

“Probably right under your nose,” Cas said with a smile. Dean thought he might like how this day was working out.

__

__

The next words out of Cas’ mouth after “Hello, Dean,” were “You can put me down now.” Dean felt overwhelmed. He gently set Cas back on the bed. He seemed to be okay, more than okay. He was wide awake and staring at Dean like no one else was in the room. They needed to talk. Dean couldn’t remember why though. He couldn’t even remember what he was doing before or why he was holding him in the first place. 

Luckily Sam came to his side and set a hand on Cas’ leg. “Welcome back.”

Cas looked at each of them in turn. He seemed too passive about everything. “Why do you look so troubled?” His question was directed at Dean.

“You’ve been Mr. Comatose for…” He stopped mid-sentence not sure how long it had actually been. He turned to Doc then as if to ask for help there.

“Just a couple of days. You really hit your head.” Doc helped. He came over, and Sam and Dean backed away from Cas and the bed. Doc knelt down and looked into Cas’ eyes with his little light. He smiled as he did so.

“And you are?” Cas asked.

“People around here call me Doc.” He waved back behind himself and said, “And that old codger is Mo.” 

“So I have been unconscious for a couple of days?” Cas seemed to contemplate that for a few moments. He turned back to Dean and brushed aside Doc’s hand as he raised the light again to check Cas’ eyes. “Why were you carrying me?”

“I don’t remember. I think we were going to get some fresh air or something.” Dean felt dizzy. He rubbed at his eyes a moment.

Mo walked over to the window. “Well, we can easily get some air circulating in here.” He flipped the latch and raised the single paned window. “Better?”

A little breeze moved through the room. It smelled sweet, like springtime. Dean took a deep breath and moved back to Cas’ side. “He okay, Doc?”

“Yes, looks like everything's okay now.” Doc smiled, and Dean felt a weight fall off his chest. It was strange in fact though how things did feel better all of a sudden. In fact, he couldn’t remember what it was that had made him feel worried before, just that something had.

“Good.” He reached out to Cas and cupped his cheek in his hand. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Cas said.

Dean glanced over to the window, and watched Sam looking out on the street below. A few moments of silence passed before someone spoke. “Well, Doc and I can give y’all a moment to catch up. Maybe we can have some dinner together later in Mab’s place downstairs if you’re up to it.” Mo reached down and gave Cas’ leg a small squeeze. As he and Doc moved out the door he said, “Glad you’re awake. Dean was quite worried about you. Maybe now things will be better for everyone.”

The door clicked shut behind them, and Dean turned his attention back to Cas. It was strange how everything felt so surreal. The world around his face seemed to swim a bit in a way that made everything Cas, just Cas. Sam’s voice knocked him out of his singular focus. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna head down for a bit, clear my head with a walk.”

Dean looked away from Cas. “Yeah, sure thing Sam.” The world seemed to swim around Sam now too. “You okay?”

Sam just stared back at him a moment, and then said, “Yeah, you?”

Dean just nodded. It was true too. Everything felt  _ peachy _ . Cas was fine. Sam was fine. He was fine. Sam slipped out the door. “Dean.” Cas’ voice felt like it scratched over something in him. Dean turned back to him and felt like everything else in the room just fell away. 

“Yeah, buddy. I’m here.” His hand had never left Cas’ cheek. He wondered if this was okay. Cas didn’t turn from him, didn’t stop the contact. Something in him told him that this was okay.  _ What are we to each other? _

_ Everything. _ The answer came fast and true. Dean just stared down at him like he’d actually spoken the words.  _ I love you. _

The last bit shot through him and caused Dean to suck in a sharp breath of sweet springtime air. “Shit, Cas. You can’t just be saying that.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Cas moved a little in an attempt at sitting up. Dean fumbled a bit to help him. 

“You didn’t?” He waited for Cas’ answer.

Once he was settled into a new position, Cas said, “I merely thought something. That’s not the same thing.”

“And what did you think?” Dean stared at him. The world swam around them. There was no question what Cas was to him. He looked at him and knew he was in fact everything just like the deep graveled voice in his head had said. 

Instead of answering, Cas got up. He walked to the window, like he hadn’t been unconscious for days. He was steady and solid. Dean moved to his side. He wanted to curl his hand up in Cas’ and feel the comforting pressure of him there. He thought that maybe he wanted more than just that too, but he didn’t know if he was allowed to want more.  _ What am I allowed to ask of you? _

As if in answer, Cas took his hand. He continued staring off at the street that ran in front of the building. He seemed to scan it, looking for something. Sam was down there, talking to a woman. A child rode in circles on her bike around them. Cas’ thumb rubbed comforting circles over his knuckles. “This place is strange. Something is wrong.”

Dean let go of Cas’ hand. He stepped away from the window. “This place is perfect.”

“We need to leave.”

Dean felt dizzy. “You want to leave?”

“Yes.” Cas was holding the window frame. His gaze focused on the horizon.

“Of course. Shoulda known.” Dean paced away from him. “Too good to be true. Just my luck.”

Cas’ voice came from right behind him even though he had walked clear across the room. “Dean.”

Dean turned back to him and found him standing right up next to him. Their chests were pressed in close to one another. “What?”

Cas reached out to him, settling a hand on Dean’s hip. “We need to leave.” Dean felt the world sway around them. Cas swayed too. His face was closer. His lips were parted just a little with the words he’d just spoken. He licked them. Dean wanted to taste them, chase the feelings that he wasn’t even sure he should be having. Something in Cas’ eyes flashed a little, like something in him was glowing. Dean leaned in closer, never breaking eye contact. 

“I want to…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Cas kissed the words off his mouth. The move pushed Dean back against the wall of the room. There was a familiarity in the moment. He closed his eyes and lived in the moment of it all. Cas tasted good, like honeysuckle. Dean wondered how he knew what honeysuckle tasted like. He kissed Cas back with a bit of desperation. He wanted to keep tasting him. He licked into Cas’ mouth and felt warmth fill him. Cas’ hands were on him, rucking up his shirt, fingers gripping his lower back once his skin was exposed. And as Cas’ lips moved from his mouth to his neck, Dean said, “God Cas, I’ve wanted this forever.”

Cas kept their bodies pressed to one another. His hands kept divesting Dean of his clothes. Dean felt his breathing hitch up once Cas’ hands worked their way around to the button on the front of his pants. “We need to leave.” Cas’ words were husked out in a deep shaky breath.

“Whatever you want.” Dean would agree to anything now, so long as Cas was asking.

Cas’ hands slipped into Dean’s pants. He pushed them down past the curve of Dean’s ass. “I want this.” Cas’ voice was different now. He was breathing. He was looking steadily into Dean’s eyes. “I want what you want. Always.” His words were devotion. His look was steadying. Dean felt the dizziness pass. He pushed away from the wall toward Cas, always toward Cas, driving them both toward the bed. Cas went willingly. His hands were on Dean, coaxing forth goosebumps over his exposed flesh. “This, I want this, all of this, every bit of this.” He kissed Dean. They fell back into the bed that had been Cas’ for so long now.

Dean kicked off the pants that were around his ankles along with the shoes. He wasn’t sure how he managed to deal with the tied laces. Everything found its way to the floor though. Cas was missing layers. Dean didn’t remember when they’d taken care of that. _Doesn’t matter_ , he told himself.

_ You’re right. It doesn’t. _ Dean felt the words rumble through his mind as their bodies rubbed against one another. The warmth of flesh on flesh between them was making everything feel so right. 

Dean raked his fingers up through Cas’ hair.  _ He is solid. He is here. He is okay. He isn’t leaving. _

 

* * *

 

Time passed strangely after that. Or maybe it was always different here. Dean wondered if he should lock the door, but he never got up and did that. He wondered if he needed to worry about Sam coming back and getting an eyeful, but he didn’t do anything to forestall that. Instead, he just let time pass as he laid pressed to Cas’ chest, their limbs tangled and breathing in sync. 

Cas ran his fingers gently up and down his spine and occasionally pressed light kisses into his hair.  _ I love you. _ The room was warm. The air around them smelled sweet like honey. Dean licked his lips and could taste sweetness there too. It wasn’t like the taste of candy or actual sugar. It was more like the sweetness of flowers in spring time, more like high grasses waving on the breeze. There was something almost visual in the taste of it all, in the breath of all things that were in the room. Dean felt his chest swell with it. He let his body roll to the side of Cas a bit more and was cradled in the crook of his arm.

“How long do you think it’ll be before Sam comes back?” Dean asked as he traced his fingers over Cas’ ribs.

“A couple of days.” Dean looked up at Cas’ face as the words were said. 

“Funny.”

“Accurate.” Cas rolled a little more to face him. He ran his hand up to Dean’s cheek and tenderly traced out the angles that lead to Dean’s jaw and the space behind his ear. “We need to leave here.”

Dean felt his body react to that. His muscles clenched up tight. He stared at Cas who now held the back of his head. “Why would you want to leave?”

“Something is wrong here.” 

Dean just stared at him a moment more. “Nothing is wrong here. It’s more right than anything has ever been.” He swallowed back a little and added, “Is it this? Is it the you and me stuff?” He let his mind take over, because he didn’t know how to explain what he was thinking, what he was fearing.  _ You regret being with me? _

Cas’ fingers tightened their grip to the back of Dean’s head. His other hand came up and cupped the other side of Dean’s face. “I could never regret this.” He leaned in and kissed Dean’s lips. “Leaving doesn’t change this.” His eyes darted down to the space between them. “Leaving is just necessary. Something is wrong here.”

“What’s wrong here? I was thinking that it was damn near perfect.” Dean got up then, feeling a need to dress and be somehow more focused on Cas’ words than on the press of their flesh which was once again affecting him. Cas got up and dressed in an instant. Dean looked at him and thought,  _ so I just get to do the dressing thing all slow-like while you watch? _

_ Yes. Take your time. _ Cas’ lips curled up into a simple half grin. He sat on the end of the bed and watched Dean. “You like it here?” It was a real question.

“It’s perfect.” Dean slowly pulled on his pants and then sat next to Cas on the end of the bed. I thought we might make a home here, build a house out on the edge of town or something. Old Mo was saying there was a place that was maybe perfect for us out on the west end of the old country road. The river runs through that patch of land, he said. He also said that they get fish in season. He said he’d teach us to fly fish like pros.”

“So you’ve talked a lot about this it seems.” Cas tipped his head to the side and watched him as he explained it all. “How long have we been here?”

“Just a couple of days.” Dean rubbed his hands down the top of his pants and cast a glance around the room for his shirt. “It’s what makes this all so amazing. Everyone is just so nice and helpful, and we’ve only been here for a short time.”

“You don’t think that’s strange?”

“Should I? Seems refreshing.” Dean spotted his shirt and got up. He stalked over to it and shook it out. “You don’t like it here. Why?” Dean pulled on the shirt and gave his attention to Cas. He leaned into the wall near the window.

“There are certain things here I like a great deal.” Cas’ eyes roved over Dean. “However, I don’t feel like myself here. I feel like something is affecting our thinking. I have to keep reminding myself that I am an angel, that I have certain abilities. I keep thinking like a human.”

“Is there anything wrong with thinking like a human?” Dean felt a sudden defensiveness sweep through him.

“Nothing whatsoever if you are one. It is odd to suddenly think like one when you aren’t one. It would be as if you suddenly started thinking you could just snap your clothes back on with a thought or heal someone who was injured. You can’t, so it would be strange to just start thinking that way.”

Dean let those thoughts whirl around in his head a little. “What does thinking like a human mean for you then?”

“It means thinking I can’t do certain things like,” he paused a moment as if he’d lost the thought then continued, “Like not being able to wake up or feeling like I needed to breathe.” Dean came back to his side and sat on the bed.

“What could cause that?”

“I don’t know, and staying here feels risky.” He settled a hand on Dean’s leg. “I also have other very human urges.” They looked at each other.

“You mean the sex stuff?” Dean finally asked. Cas’ hand on him was warm and taking up a bit of Dean’s focus.

“A little.” Cas leaned in and kissed him. Dean pulled back. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Dean felt a bit of worry rush through him. He’d just gotten this thing, whatever this was that they were doing, and now he could almost feel it falling away.

“It’s not bad, I just can’t seem to control myself. I feel like I need to be touching you,” he paused a second and added, “constantly.”

“I really don’t see the problem with that.” Dean laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Cas’ hand moved north. Dean sucked in a startled breath and deepened the kiss. He pulled away a moment later. “Not to stop you, but we really should.” Dean reached down and moved Cas’ hand off of his body.

“See what I mean?”

“That you find me utterly attractive and can’t keep your hands off me?” Dean winked. “Yeah, see what you mean. I just have that effect on people sometimes.” 

Cas got up then and put a little distance between them. “You are and have always been aesthetically pleasing. That is not the point.” He leaned into the wall and looked back at Dean. “It’s more than that. I feel like…” He closed his eyes and seemed like he was trying to draw on something for comparison. He opened his eyes a moment later and said, “It is like your longing. I feel it. I’m directed by it.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You want me to touch you, right?”

“Obviously,” Dean said with an eye roll.

“What you want is telegraphing to me. I think our bond is having an interesting side-effect.”

Dean felt the words like a gut punch. He took a moment to process it. “Are you saying,” he swallowed then continued, “You are just doing what my longing is making you do? Like you’re a puppet or something?”

“Yes,” he said it quickly then added, “and also no.” He seemed to notice then what was happening with Dean.”It’s much more complicated than that.” He moved toward Dean and reached out toward him.

Dean swatted his hand away. “Don’t.” 

“Dean.” He reached out again and Dean got up and pushed past him toward the door. He reached for it and instead of opening it, pressed his forehead to it. “I wanted this too, Dean. I just had more self-control before.”

“So all of this, all the way back to the hotel in Tennessee,” Dean suddenly remembered a whole lot of the past, “all of it was just me?”

“No,” Cas said, low and serious. 

“How do I know that answer isn’t just what I want to hear?” Dean rolled his head to the side and looked at him.

“You just have to believe me.” Cas looked like he was going to come to him, reach out touch him even. Dean couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t stomach the idea that any of this was being forced on Cas. He opened the door. “Dean.”

“I just need to get out. I just need to clear my head. I’ll come back.” He stepped through the door. Old Mo was there, hand poised to knock. “Oh, hey.” Dean turned back to Cas. “Maybe go find Sam.”

Dean stepped out into the hall and closed the door between them. He turned his attention to Mo. “Going out for a walk?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Dean said.

“Mind some company?” Mo moved to his side.

“Not a bit.” They walked down the stairs together and out to the street. Dean felt the thoughts of Cas slip off into a fog, like it happened long ago and bore no further consideration. The twist in his stomach loosened. Mo settled a hand on his shoulder, and they walked together into the afternoon sunlight.

 

* * *

 

 

The rolling green hills stretched out around them as they walked past the buildings and the early afternoon efforts of Cora’s residents. Mo leaned heavily on Dean’s arm as they walked, his cane making little clacking noises on the pavement with each step. “How far you want to go?” Dean asked.

“A ways. I was figuring I’d show you the property I was talking about the other day.” He looked up at Dean and added, “You know, the one that I thought would suit you and your friend.”

“Cas.”

“Yes.”

“Think you said that property was way outside of town, out on the river.” Then Dean noticed the gently flowing river through the trees that he didn’t remember being there before.

“It is. I think it would be just about perfect for you boys.” Mo gave Dean’s arm a gentle squeeze. “You’ve earned a bit of a respite, haven’t you?”

Dean tore his gaze from the river and the trees to focus on Mo. “I suppose.” He felt a bit unsettled. Mo reached out and pointed at some space ahead of them.

“You can see it now.”

Dean said, “We haven’t really left town yet though.” He turned to follow Mo’s pointing.

“Haven’t we?” Dean saw the house nestled in the trees right along the river. He turned back to Mo and looked past him even to the road that lay in their wake. It stretched on forever with no clear sign of the town that they had just left.

“Wait.” Dean stepped away from Mo. “What?”

“Good thing the cabin is uninhabited. I’m gonna need to sit a spell and regather my energy for the walk home.” Mo began shuffling off toward the cabin. “Funny how no one has snatched this property up. It is really quite lovely. I suppose it was just fate that you’d come along and choose it.”

Dean shook his head and rushed to catch up with Mo. “Fate?”

“Yeah, somehow it seems like it was fate for you lot to show up here. I’m glad. Cora’s a special place Dean.” Before enough time had passed, they were standing in front of the porch to the cabin. It was not one of those entirely rustic looking cabins. It had a modern look to it in the metal brackets affixed to the door, the double-paned windows, and the smoothed out and sealed wood used to make the porch posts. The wood had a slightly golden hue to it that made it seem almost to glow in the afternoon light.

“Mo, what if Cas doesn’t want this?” He wasn’t sure why he was about to share this with Mo. They barely knew each other, but at the same time, he felt like they were close.  _ It’s only been a few days. _ He told himself.

“Near as I can tell, he’s the type that’ll follow you to the ends of all things. If you want this, so will he.” Mo gave him a gentle pat and shuffled up the porch steps. They went in. Dean let his eyes swoop over the place. It was large and at the same time cozy. There was a big stone fire place. The living room had an overstuffed sofa. There was a TV mounted to one wall. Dean moved to the kitchen with its modern appliances. 

“All rather fancy. Why isn’t someone living here again?” Dean turned from his appraisal to Mo.

“Not sure. Folks that built it just up and left. Guess they found something more suited to them.” He moved down the hall a bit and said, “Come on. You need to see the bedroom.”

Dean followed him. He thought of the living they could do in such a place, what it’d mean to call this home. He wondered if Cas would see it like he saw it. That thought unsettled him, but he wasn’t sure why.  _ Any big decision, I guess, is bound to do that. _ He let his fingers drag over the wood of the wall as he followed Mo down the hall.  _ It’s not really a big decision though.  _ Dean let the thoughts linger in his head a bit.

Mo pushed open a door and Dean walked in. The bedroom was also spacious, just like the rest of the house. “Wow.” He moved further into the room and spun around to take it all in. “That’s a huge bed,” Dean said as he looked at the large four poster king bed. It had a big, thick comforter laid over it and a few too many pillows. Dean secretly liked having too many pillows; although, he’d scarcely admit it.

“How long before you think you might move in here?” Mo asked.

“That’ll be up to Cas. I’ve only just suggested the place.”

“And he isn’t sure?” It was a question that drew Dean’s attention.

“I don’t know. He said something about leaving. I don’t get why he’d want that.” Dean ran his hand back up into his hair and tried to make sense of his memories and thoughts that were now just a jumble of too much vying for the forefront of his mind.

They walked together out of a pair of double doors from the bedroom to a back porch. There was a yard of sorts, really just land that stretched out to the banks of the wide river. “Perhaps he just needs to see this place, see how much it means to you, and he’ll change his mind.” They walked down to the river, and stood together there, staring at the ripples of water swiftly flowing by.

Dean watched the water, followed the flow of it back toward the town where he knew that it would run under a quaint stone bridge and away. He let his eyes run back up the flow past them and toward the mountain that sat just behind the cabin. He imagined that somewhere high up in the hill there was a waterfall blasting over some rocky precipice. He imagined that there might even be a lake up there with fish and a shoreline thick with trees.

Dean brought his vision back to the waters in front of him. There was movement there. Mo had said that they could fish here. He said that he’d teach Dean to fly fish when the time came. Dean tried to follow the movement in the water. It wasn’t exactly deep. He could see the river rocks on the bottom, smooth and flecked with black spots. “What kind of fish you have in these rivers?” Dean asked as he saw the movement in the water again.

“Bass, mostly.” Mo leaned on his cane and smiled at the river. 

There was a ripple of gold in the distance, nearly on the other side. Dean unconsciously moved closer to the water. “What is that?” Mo’s hand came to him and held him back from the water. “Mo?”

“Nothing to concern yourself about.” Dean turned to him and looked for more.

“There’s someone in the water.” Dean returned his focus to where the water moved over the far curve of the river. He looked for the splash of gold that had been there just moments before. “Mo,” Dean said as he pulled away from him.

“Oh Dean,” Mo sighed. “What did it this time?”

Dean gave him his attention again. “I don't understand.”

Mo seemed to straighten up from his hunched over position. “That's okay. In time maybe you will, and maybe you'll even accept this gift.”

Dean thought about what had driven him from the room and from Cas that morning. He thought of the way that these couple of days seemed to be confusing and almost unreal. “I don't know what you are, but have you trapped all of us here? Are we free to go whenever we wish?”

Mo slumped back down against his cane. “No one wants to. You don't even want to leave deep down. There have been those that have chosen to leave though, but they inevitably choose to come back. They also pay the price for that desire.”

“What do you mean?” Dean felt a small thread of worry in his gut, then the words, soft and low like a whisper filled his head,  _ I love you. _

“If one wishes to return after leaving, one has to bring others to us first. In some ways it is good when people leave for a time. They always come back, and we always gain from it.”

“Who’s  _ we _ ?” Dean felt the worry growing.

“Just Doc, and Mab, and Gerald, and myself. I suppose you can even count all the residents of Cora too. We are all one really when it comes down to it.”

“I need to get back to Cas and Sam.” Dean moved to the cabin, but really he wanted to skirt around the side and back to the road. 

“Dean, it’s what you’ve always wanted. It’s peace here that you’ll never have out there. You deserve this, don’t you think?”

“It’s not real.”

“What is real?” Mo came to his side then and settled a hand on his arm. Dean felt a warm wash of tranquility flow through him. “Is it real when Cas heals you? Is it real when you feel lost or afraid? Is it real when time and again you die and come back, die and come back? Were the decades in Hell real?”

“Well, yeah!” Dean moved away from him again. “It was horribly real.”

“I guarantee you that this,” Mo waved a hand around at all the land and trees, “This is real too. But it’s the good kind of real, the kind of real that doesn’t hurt you or even really want anything from you.”

“You said it doesn’t  _ really  _ want anything?” Dean gave it the tone of a question, then asked point blank, “What does this place want from us?”

There were flowers blooming near the banks of the river. Mo waved his hand over them and they seemed to perk up. Small clouds of pollen puffed out of them in little bursts of yellow clouds. The scent of honey filled the air. Dean felt his head spin a little. Mo came to his side and answered, “Only that you and all those with you are happy.”

__

__

The light filled the space. Dean reached out to it with his remaining strength.  _ You prayed for this. You got what you asked for, all of it. _ The voice in his head was familiar. He had to concentrate, though, on the task at hand. “I’ve come to make things right,” Dean said into the dark, toward the light. “Tell me what you’ll have me do.”

The light took form in front of him. There was light all around now, like it was circling Dean and the blood. Dean could feel it inching toward the sacrifice as if the light had hands and fingers just itching to dip into the warmth of it. The form in front of Dean became recognizable. Rowena. “You think I have any help to offer you?”

“If not you then someone else. Crowley maybe.” Dean did his best to keep his mind focused.

“He’s dead, but I guess you think he gets to spend an eternity with his dear old mum now don’t you?” She smiled at him and added, “Funny you should remember those details, my death and his. Did we matter to you a bit?”

“I don’t know. I just…” Dean clutched at the still bleeding wound on his arm. Rowena reached out to it and swiped her fingers through the blood. She raised her fingers to her lips and licked them clean.

“Don’t look at me that way. It is what feeds us now, what gives us form. Otherwise you’d be talking to a wee spot of light and getting nothing in the way of answers.”

“You haven’t given me answers.” Dean fell back onto the earth a little more, his legs stretching out in front of him.

“Careful, you’ll kick him,” she said. She glanced to the side of Dean. 

“Who?”

She smiled then and laughed, a little sound of purest mirth. “Oh, Dean. I forget how things are for you. It feels like it has been forever, and no time at all, but time enough for the forgetting I suppose.” She moved carefully, and came down to his side. She set a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe a different slice of existence, a different universe. Maybe that would fix things for you.”

“I don’t understand.” Dean glanced at her hand on his shoulder. It sat there gently reminding him of all the times that Mo had done the same, and before him, it was Cas that anchored him like this.

She was tender and gentle. Her words flowed like honey. “You prayed to whoever would listen. You prayed for someone to fix this. His body far from alive. You knelt at his side and you prayed. Sometimes though, sometimes Dean, you forget that a lot of beings listen to prayers, and they don’t all answer them in the way that is easiest. Blessings and wishes always come with a pricetag. It is always high.”

“Whose body? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dean started to pull free from her, but she held on tighter.

Rowena swiped a finger through the sacrifice and brought the blood to her lips again. She licked it clean. “In this universe, he came home to you and didn’t betray you. In this universe, you got to fix things. It was more than that though, and part of your prayer was for peace. You wanted to find peace for all that cared for you and all that you cared for. So you are here.”

“This doesn’t feel like peace. We need to leave. Tell me how we leave.”

“Oh, Dean. It isn’t so simple as that. He gave you what you asked for. You can’t just spit on it and walk away. It matters.”

“We need to leave.”  _ I love you. _ Cas’ words filled his head loud, sounding rough like he was suffering.

Rowena looked on him, sadness heavy in her eyes. “I understand what you’re experiencing. It’s not unlike death. You make of it what you will though. You find your peace.”

“How do I get out of here? How do I get us home?” Dean considered how far he was from Cas, from Sam.  _ Could I even get them into the car? _ “How do I get back to what is real?”

“You’re asking all of the wrong questions.” She sat in front of the sacrificial blood and rested her hands on her knees.

“Then what are the right questions?”

“What is? What was? What ever shall be?” Rowena watched him for a reaction, then swiped a hand through the blood. It dripped from her as she held her hand up in front of her face to lick away as much as she could. Dean thought he should be sickened. He wasn’t.

“What is?” he asked.

“There is a nephilim that was born. Lucifer is trapped in another dimension with your mother. Sam is in the cabin where he went to find the baby that is no longer so young. There is pain in your heart, because Cas is dead.”

Dean tried to connect all of that to any sort of memory, but he came up short. There was a motel in Tennessee and a case and a guy named Silas that pointed them in this direction. They didn’t know where Kelly was. His mom was working a case. Rowena leaned in close and tipped her head to the side as she stared at him. “You’re dead.” He said the words like he’d only just figured out this part. He knew she was dead though. He felt the familiar dizziness kicking up again.

“Yes, dear. You finally catching up?”

“When? How?” He remembered something small, a phone call. She laughed at him.

“Wrong question, but okay. I guess it really comes down to you asking what was.”

“What was?” Dean asked just to be clearly on her page.

“Lucifer did this. He was gentler with the angel.” She glanced down at their side.

Dean felt dizzy again. “I’m not following you.”

“His child was born. Your angel made sure of that. It became his mission. He took Kelly to a small cabin in Washington. The nephilim was born there. Your mother was pulled away from you. Your angel was taken from you. This is what was.”

Dean tried to remember what the third question was. He looked at Rowena who seemed to have grown more patient in her afterlife than she had been before. “What ever shall be?” He had gained nothing of use in this conversation, at least nothing he fully believed. Cas wasn’t dead. He was absolutely alive, and Dean fully intended to save him.

She stood and flickered a bit. She was light and Rowena, light and then Rowena again. “That’s the future that you’re asking about, and the answer depends almost entirely on you. Mo has given you a gift. He has answered you prayer. It may not have been the answer you wanted, but it was the best he could offer up given the circumstance.” She flickered again and glanced down at the blood. She didn’t stoop to it though. “Staying here is a type of living. You’ll be happy here. You won’t choose this though. You never choose what’s easiest. It’s the Winchester way I suppose.” She flickered again.

“The blood,” Dean encouraged.

She dipped a finger in and stopped flickering. “Last taste.” She smiled. “It hurts too much to stay.” Dean didn’t know if she was talking about herself then or not. “You might choose to come back. So I recommend that you go. Drive to North Cove. Look at what you left behind. Make your choice then.”

“That’s it? That’s the advice? Leave Sam and Cas and drive to Washington?” Dean got up and nearly knocked over the sacrifice. The light around him surged inward like they wanted to lap up the potential spill. 

“You’re not leaving them. You’re returning to them. They are in Washington. Mo will try to give you reasons to stay, but he won’t stop you. He had put so much effort into your happiness, even constructing a whole case for you complete with mass hallucinations and a very mysterious town. Despite everything, he does believe in at least a little free will. You’ll smell the pollen, the sweet scent of this home, and when it is time, you’ll come back to us.”

“Why?”

“Because you never wanted heaven, and hell’s no place for heroes.” She flickered away again and was gone.

The Impala sat on a new formed roadway ten steps away. It wasn’t there before. He walked to it and got in. He gave the clearing one last glance. He saw the light rush in on the blood. Then there were bodies, flesh and bone and his blood streaming from their gaping jaws as they consumed the remains of the sacrifice. He left them, driving fast toward the west, toward Washington.

 

* * *

 

The journey home can sometimes feel like a thousand years. He was heading somewhere, but it wasn’t home, and it wasn’t what he wanted. Still it felt like the miles rolled by slow like winter honey poured from a jar. He didn’t want to believe what she told him, but as the miles stretched between him and Cora, he felt greater clarity strike him. The fields around him looked like they’d just broken free from a hard winter. They were green, but the kind that were only just finding their color again.

It was spring time in Cora, or damn near summer. It boded of warmth and freedom. He wondered what could be gained from leaving it. He wondered why he’d bothered to do what Rowena had suggested. Winchester pride, likely. He just had to know what was happening.

There was snow high on the hills. The route he was taking snaked through gently bending forest roads. He felt the small stirrings of fear deep in his stomach. Some memories were sparking toward the forefront of his mind. He saw a small white house set back from a still as glass lake. Dean squeezed the steering wheel and drove with renewed focus. He tried not to think too much of what might lie ahead. 

It was like seeing something in a dream. The memory of the house though felt very real. Dean began wishing for snow, for rain, for a dark foggy night, anything that would give him an excuse. He started hoping for a small roadside motel. He could excuse the pause at one. He could just rest and wait out the nonexistent storm. Small puffs of snow began to fall. They slowly drifted down from the heavens as if they were tentatively answering his innermost desires. 

Up ahead, he could see the glow of neon lights. He slowed as he approached. The sign gained form in the night. It was the Thunderbird Motel. It had all of the looks of a place lost to time. There was even a neon head representing every stereotype of a cigar store indian. The Vacancy Yes sign was on; although, it was missing some letters. Dean pulled into the parking lot. He didn’t get out of the car though.

_ I love you. _ It had been a long while since the words flowed through his head.  _ I know, _ he thought back. More memories flittered about in his mind. He closed his eyes a moment and pressed his head to the steering wheel. He breathed in and out deeply. The world was quiet. There was a lot coming at him. Cas was there, lying on the ground, cold and still. 

Dean opened his eyes to blot out the memory with something real. The sign for the motel flickered. All the letters in Vacancy Yes were burned out except for the c-a-s. Dean understood the significance. He pulled back onto the road and continued the drive.

 

* * *

 

Time passed and the memories flowed back in. He knew more than he wanted to know. He didn’t wish for snow now. He just drove. Every great now and then on the lonely forest lined road, he’d see a figure standing off to the side in the trees, just watching him pass. Dean slowed down the first time and took in the form of the slightly hunched over old man. Mo was everywhere, and he was nowhere too.

The rumble of the road beneath his tires was soothing and brought forth another memory, one that he had held close in the months that passed after it. He was driving, not the Impala but the ugly little tan truck that Cas had acquired. Dean remembered the way that the silence weighed heavy on them both as the miles fell away. The sound of the road vibrated through the truck. Cas sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead. 

At the time, Dean did not know what to say. Cas nearly died. He nearly lost him. He had glanced at him repeatedly during the journey until Cas said, “I’m really okay, Dean.”

“I know. I just…” He looked again. “You gave us all a real scare back there. Thought we lost you.”  _ Always with the we’s and the us’s, never just I was scared, or I thought I lost you. _

“I’m here. You didn’t lose me yet.” He smiled as he said it as if the thought of him dying was no big thing, and also inevitable.

Dean reached across the seat and set his hand on Cas’ as they drove. A moment passed like that then another. Cas slowly turned his hand over under Dean’s. He curled his fingers around Dean’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Please don’t take risks like that. I can’t watch you die. It’ll kill me.”

“I can’t promise you that, Dean.” He slowed the truck and pulled off to the side. He didn’t put the truck in park. He just sat with his foot on the brake. He didn’t want to let go of Cas’ hand. Cas continued, “You and Sam do risky things all of the time, and you haven’t even turned 40 yet. I’ve lived forever. I can afford to take risks if it’ll give you a little more time.”

Dean let go of his hand and shifted into park. “I’m not going to die old, Cas. I’m gonna be lucky to hit 40 or unlucky. Take your pick. It’s not your job to die for me, for us.”

Cas reached out to him, cupped the space between Dean’s neck and shoulder, leaned in close and said, “It is what I choose. Given any and all circumstances, I will do whatever I can to keep you and Sam alive. Mary too for that matter. I want you to know happiness, and if I have to die to give you that, then I will.”

Dean jerked away from him. He brought his arm up to the window ledge of the door. He bit his thumb nail a moment as he stared out the window and not at Cas. “You’re an idiot.”

There was movement at Dean’s side. He turned and saw that Cas was closer. He still looked haggard and weak after the fight with Ramiel.  _ I love you. _ He heard Cas’ simple declaration all over again. Yet somehow, what he had just said sounded far more like a love declaration than those three simple words. “I’m not an idiot, though you treat me like one sometimes.”

Dean laughed, a short burst of noise that startled even him. “We’re both idiots,” Dean amended. He leaned in and kissed him. It was quick and at the same time came about slowly. Cas didn’t stop him or shy away. In fact, he kissed him back, just as gently. Dean ended the kiss first and said, “You want me to be happy, then don’t die. Like I said before, I can’t lose you.”

“We don’t live the kind of lives where I can promise you anything. I can’t guarantee you that I’ll live. We take risks every day. You’re the worst of us all. You think that doesn’t worry me too?” Cas was still close as he said it. His breath was warm on Dean’s cheek.

“I just don’t want you doing anything rash. I just want everyone that I care about to get through all of this. I’m tired of losing people that matter to me.”

“I’m an angel.” It was like he was trying to differentiate himself from the rest of Dean’s family for some reason.

“I picked up on that. You’re also part of the people that matter to me club, so deal with it.” Dean reached out and cupped the side of his face. “Just try not to risk yourself anymore, okay?”

“Like always, I’ll put thought into my actions and do what I must.” He paused a moment and reached up to lay a hand over Dean’s which was still holding him. “Just like you.”

Dean rolled his eyes. There was no winning this one. He could just hope that Cas would be smart about things or at least better skilled than his opponent. Cas leaned in this time, before Dean could argue any further. He kissed Dean. The press of his mouth to Dean’s was warm and solid and alive. It washed away the worries a little. Dean parted his lips, just to see if the kiss could deepen, if Cas would take it there. 

Dean brought up his other hand to Cas’ waist and gently pulled him closer. Cas moved at Dean’s will. He also opened his own mouth just a little. Dean took it as an invitation. He pushed forward more. He licked the inside of Cas’ mouth quickly tasting him. A low moan of approval came from Cas. Dean felt it roll through him. Cas pushed him back, but not to escape. He pressed himself against Dean and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he did so, then he was kissing him hard and gracelessly. 

Dean let his hands slide down Cas’ back as he slid down the seat of the truck a little. Cas was practically on top of him. Cas broke the kiss and looked down at him. His eyes glowed and Dean swore he saw wings. A street light down the road burst, and the truck shook. “Easy tiger,” Dean said.

“I meant what I said in the barn.” Dean couldn’t respond to that. He was too much in awe of what he was seeing. Cas was bright and looming over him. He was stunning. Dean wanted to touch him when he was like this. He reached up and set his hand on Cas’ cheek. It was warmer than normal skin. It radiated power. Cas repeated himself as if he knew that Dean was having trouble focusing on words. “I meant what I said in the barn.” He leaned down closer to Dean. “I love you.” He kissed the words into Dean then, and Dean thought at the time that he could die happy knowing that.

 

* * *

 

It took less time to get to North Cove than it should have. Dean followed the route that would lead him back to where it all began and where it all ended. He felt the dread building in his stomach. He knew what he’d see there, though he kept doubting it all. Old Mo stood by the road that Dean had to turn on to get to the cabin. He pointed in the direction that Dean was to go.

He could see the house in the distance and the lake, still as glass. The mountains held little patches of snow, and the night sky was dotted with stars. Dean pulled up to the side and cut the engine. He stared at a surreal tableau in front of him. Cas was laying still on the ground. Dean saw himself kneeling beside him, head tipped back so that he could call out to the heavens. Nothing was moving, not the trees, the lake water, or them.

Dean got out of the car, and it squeaked noisily as he did so. The moment was coming back to him, the memory of it all. He was praying to anyone, anything that would listen. He was preparing to cut deals. His hand was hanging limp at his side. There was a pit hastily dug in front of him. There was blood. The other Dean’s arm looked like it had been cut. Dean drew closer to his other self, to Cas. His breathing came sharp and painful to him, like he’d been crying. He felt warmth on his arm. He looked down and saw a wound that mirrored the other Dean’s. “I don’t know what to do.” He fell to his knees behind himself and in an instant they were one being again.

The world moved again. The water lapped at the shore. His cheeks were wet with tears. He leaned down closer to Cas, searching for life that wasn’t there. “He’s gone, Dean.” The gentle voice that was now familiar drifted down to him. Dean looked up and saw Old Mo standing in front of him. “I can give you back the life you ran from. I can send you back to Cora, try some changes, make it easier to believe. We almost had it this last time,” Mo said gently as he came down to a squat.

Dean stared at him. “How many times have I prayed for this?”

“More times than I care to admit.” Mo looked at him steadily. “I know you’re mad. You’re always mad at me at this point.” 

Dean looked back down at Cas and felt nothing but a deep gut-turning sadness. He’d chosen a dream world hundreds of times maybe. He’d chosen that, because none of this could be fixed. All of it was clouding his mind, filling him with a despair that he didn’t think he could live with. “What happens here if I go back?”

“You dream. You live a lifetime in an instant. A moment here is maybe a month, maybe a year there. Imagine what you could do with all that time. Imagine what you could have with Cas and Sam too. You never got your peace, and Dean, you deserve peace. They do too.” Mo hugged his knees a little and didn’t look like the frail old man that could barely walk back in Cora. He exuded a bit of power here.

“Who are you?” Dean finally asked.

“You always ask that. As if it matters at this point who I am.” He laughed a little, like it was a joke, but Dean didn’t get it. “I am Morpheus, god of dreams. You know my stories. You know that I am not known for any grave harms to heroes.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” He glanced back at Cas but couldn’t look at him for long. Dean felt his body shaking, like something was ready to burst from the inside. He thought he might cry. He shoved the emotion down deep. He’d had a lifetime of practice.

“No one else answered your prayer. This is the best you could hope for.” Mo reached out then and settled a hand on Dean’s arm. “It’s your choice.” A soft smile tipped the edges of his lips. “You always choose Cora though.”

“Wrong.” Dean looked back down at Cas and remembered the many failed attempts before. He was pretty sure that Mo was giving him the memories, letting him see that this is how it always was, how it ever would be. “I always chose Cas.” Mo nodded.

“And what will you choose this time, Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes and let the memories wash over him.

 

* * *

 

He remembered moving into the house by the river. Cas was happy. He looked at it all like it was some sort of a gift. They walked in one after the other. Dean rested his hand on Cas’ shoulder as they moved from the entryway into the living room. Dean let his hand fall from Cas’ shoulder and watched him move to the large sliding glass doors that made up a portion of the living room wall. Cas pushed the curtains aside and opened the doors. A wash of honey sweet air blew through the room. Dean moved to stand at Cas’ back. He snaked his hands around Cas’ waist and hooked his chin up over Cas’ shoulder. “Welcome home.” He smiled as they stared out at their little world together.

Cas tipped his head toward Dean’s and they breathed in the air of summer. Dean squeezed Cas to him. This was an early memory. He kept this one close to his heart. In all the times that the dream had been rebooted, this memory remained even if it was behind a layer of fog. It was soft, and made up of such stuff that he had wanted since well before he knew he could have any right to it. Cas was an angel. Here he was Dean’s angel. Here he was also just Dean’s, and Dean was his. “It’s perfect here,” Cas whispered. “I couldn’t ask for anything more than this.” He turned to face Dean. 

“You couldn’t?” Dean asked.

“It’s perfect,” Cas repeated.

Dean heard the words, and he also heard what was lying beneath them. It was the moment that told him that it wasn’t real. It was always like that, some little glitch that flickered a bit of reality into the picture. Dean cupped Cas’ face in his hands. Cas closed his eyes, and Dean saw him then, saw him as he was long ago and far away. “Cas,” he whispered back almost like a question. He feared the silence that could follow.

“Kiss me, Dean.” Cas kept his eyes closed, his face still.

Dean kissed him and felt something inside of him. His body was shaking.  _ Cas is dead. He’s dead. God no, he’s dead. _ The memory and reality were colliding in this moment. He kept kissing him, hoping that it wasn’t real, that he wasn’t seeing something that was, that is. He moved his hands up Cas’ back and dug his fingers in to hold him tight, to keep him. Cas was moving them now from the room. Dean was too afraid to open his eyes. He let Cas guide their movements. He pressed his face into Cas’ neck and kissed him, sucking the occasional bruise into his perfect skin.

He felt the bed behind him. He felt the mattress beneath him. He felt Cas on top of him. Somehow it became all skin and the warmth of their bodies pressed one to the other. A distraction. Dean couldn’t open his eyes even then. Cas didn’t make him either. They moved together, the warm summer air, filling the room. They kissed each other languidly. Dean felt like he could never get enough of the taste of Cas, the salt taste of his skin, the honey sweet taste of his mouth. Then there was the way his body rolled on top of him, coaxing out pleasure and promising a lifetime of joys he never felt he’d earned.

Dean opened his eyes. Cas looked down on him with such devotion. He longed for this to be real, had longed for it before.  _ Before. _ And Dean shook his head at the unbidden thought. Then words filled his head.  _ I love you. _ It was Cas, but not this Cas. It was from long ago and far away. To go to the words would be too much. It was the end of it all. It was in the past. He could let it go. He could be here. “I love you,” Dean said. Cas readied him. Dean canted his head to the side, closed his eyes again. He let his body live in this moment. Time passed like seasons, slowly and with cool breezes and warm summer light. He rolled his hips to meet each of Cas’ touches.

He knew when Cas would take him. He knew it almost like he was the architect of Cas’ choices. He wanted him. He wanted this. He wanted all of it to be real. The alternative was loss, was unfixable. He looked to Cas again as Cas slowly pressed into him. They didn’t move at first, but instead just stared at one another as if the entire world was this moment, and nothing else mattered. Maybe nothing else did. “I love you too,” Cas finally responded.

It sounded different from when he heard it in his head. Dean took the words though and let the sex make him forget all of his doubts. Cas was here. He was with him. They were finally, finally together. The tight muscles of Cas’ back flexed beneath Dean’s hands. He dug his fingers in again to hold him here. Perhaps it was also to hold himself there too. He knew he was just a small breath away from it all crashing down around him, blowing away on the wind.

The movements between them became more erratic. There were no more controlled rolls of hips or gentle kisses. They were rushing to meet each other. Each press and crash of their bodies sent Dean nearly over the edge, again and again. He found a rhythm and lost it. Cas was in his own world too. They each seemed to want more and more than they could get. Cas grabbed Dean and pulled him up from the bed. He held him close to his chest as he rocked into him. He seemed to gain better control over himself then. It was no longer frantic, like he was about to lose everything.

Dean still clung to him. He matched his movements. He kissed Cas along his collarbone. He could open his eyes here while he was so close. It was all just skin and sweat and a day’s growth of hair along his jawline. It was the best memory, maybe. They all had their benefits. They all ended though, with Dean realizing that none of it was enough. He kissed him through the realization, through the pleasure that turned to sorrow. It was still a good memory, so long as he could remember how to focus on only parts of it.

Cas’ eyes shone bright, and Dean focused on just them. Cas’ lips parted, and he breathed and breathed and lived.

 

* * *

 

Dean opened his eyes and the world was still wrong. The memory faded into the recesses of his mind. Mo was still there, crouched down on his haunches, staring at him. “You have to meet me halfway, Dean.” He smiled benevolently. “You are the dreamer. I just help you along a little. I just make sure that your body lets you have this.”

“You’re doing more than that. You’re the god of dreams. You’re shaping what I see,” Dean said.

“No, not really. I have melded together the dreams of those you love, so that you are all experiencing the same world. It is your world though, Dean, your little slice of the apple pie life.”

“I’m not so sure about that. If it was, I wouldn’t be trying to leave it.” Dean looked down at Cas now, still frozen on the ground where he had fallen, still dead and gone from him. Dean set a hand on him, sucked in a shaky breath, and returned his gaze to Mo.

“Cora is different for everyone. For you it is a small street that you liked from some no name town that your dad dragged you and Sam through. The cabin is a mix of places. Part of it was Lisa’s home. Another part was Rufus’ cabin. The bedroom was a cleaned up version of a room at Bobby’s place. There was something in each place that felt like home to you, and you cobbled together the new cabin from those bits and pieces.”

“And Sam. Did I cobble him together out of something?”

“No. He’s dreaming of Cora as home too. He’s happy there, Dean. He found a woman and a child that he has bonded with.”

Dean’s forehead wrinkled with concentration. “Who?” Near as he could recall there was no one that Sam had been seeing in Cora or anywhere else for that matter.

“Her name is Sarah, Sarah Blake. Sam knew her before. She had a child. Sam’s been filling a father’s role with the little girl. He’s a great dad.” Mo sounded so sincere. “She wasn’t always Sarah though. At first she was a woman named Jess, then later a woman named Eileen. I think that the memories of them were too much for Sam though. He replaced them with a woman that hurt less.”

“It’s just as unreal for him then as it is for me. He won’t be happy.”

“He is happy. He got through the parts that hurt too much and has found peace. You’ll get there too in time. You already stopped trying to bring your mother into Cora. That seemed to help.”

“My mother?” Memories of her pulled through the crack between dimensions burned within him now. He didn’t understand how it was that he kept losing the memories of her. “I have to save her.”

“What could you really do, Dean? The short answer is nothing.” Mo sounded like he genuinely meant it.

_ I love you. _ Dean shot a look at Cas. “Am I really here?”

The question seemed to take Mo by surprise. “Of course.”

“I mean, am I dreaming this place?” Dean watched him for a tell, some sign that he was holding back some necessary truth.

“I have no reason to lie to you, Dean. This moment, right here is not a dream. It is where you’ll stay if you wish for it.” Dean looked down at Cas again. The memories, the moments where it all made sense, the way that it was all so easy to just kiss him, tell him he was loved, all of it, all of it was a dream.

“I never got to tell him that I loved him,” Dean said the words as he stared down at Cas.

“You’ve told him more times than you can count.” Mo reached over and gave Dean’s arm a small squeeze.

“No, I never did. I told him that I needed him. I told him that he was family. I told him that he mattered, and that I’d rather have him around than someone else. That’s not the same. He told me that he loved me. He said the words. He said, I love you. He practically stared into my soul as he said it. He practically said it every time he saved me, or hugged me. I never gave him a return on that investment.”

“I’m sure he’d disagree. But what matters is how you see it. You see this world that way, and Cora differently. So you have a choice. You really want to live in a world where you never told him what he meant to you, or one where you tell him that you love him every day?”

And the memory from before swam through his mind.  _ I love you. _ It was the I love you that had plagued Dean since Cas had said it as he lay dying in that filthy barn all those months ago. It was the one great torment that had been poking at all of the memories. Every time that Dean’s dreams became the perfect, apple pie life, Cas safe and in his arms, Sam happy, He’d hear the words, a dull reminder of his greatest failing. 

Cas said it, and Dean just watched him as he slowly died. But he didn’t die then. He came back. Dean was given another shot at evening the score, and did he take it?  _ Just three words, and I couldn’t tell him. _ He watched him there, his face still, his lips a thin line. He kissed him once on a lonely stretch of road. He poured love into that one moment, but didn't give him the words. He could have told him in so many ways what he meant, and yet, he didn’t. “I love you too,” Dean whispered and leaned down to him. “I haven’t earned that dream world Mo.” He looked up at Mo and saw his nod of acknowledgement. It was as if he understood the refusal that went unsaid. Dean returned his gaze to Cas then, slipping his palm to Cas’ cheek, and bridged the remaining gap between them.

It was the moment that he felt all that was remaining of his strength crumbling. His hands shook as they held Cas. His eyes pooled up with tears that spilled out onto the very still face of his best friend.  _ I love you. _ The words rang out in his head, and he longed to hear them beyond the memory. He longed to change things, to change everything. He longed for Cas, for his return and a second or maybe now it was a millionth shot at something, anything. 

“I love you, you bastard. God, just come back to me. Just come back. I’ll do anything. Please.” The words were a stream of mumbled bits that were pressed to Cas’ forehead, a prayer of sorts, delivered to the only heavenly being that he had ever given his faith to. He choked on his prayer and eventually just pulled Cas up to his chest and held him. He rocked a little back and forth as he clung to him.

Mo stood then, and Dean looked up at him. He seemed to be saddened by all that he was seeing. “I sincerely mean it, Dean. If you want your life in Cora back, just call on me and it’s yours.” He took a step back. He held out his hand, and the cane materialized in it. He turned from Dean then and walked to the water. He stepped out to it under the light of the low lying moon. In a moment he faded until there was no hint of him there anymore.

Dean continued to hold Cas, and would have stayed that way for the foreseeable future if it had not been for the unexpected presence at his side. Dean looked at the unusual and rather naked young man that was standing there staring at him. He tipped his head to the side, somewhat perplexed. His eyes glowed yellowish. He smiled, and there was something almost menacing about it. “Who are you?” Dean asked. He knew he should be preparing for a fight, but nothing in him wanted that. He’d lose, and he wouldn’t even care so long as it was swift.

The boy didn’t reply. He started to reach out toward Cas. Although Dean didn’t want to fight for his own life, he didn’t want to let anyone near Cas. It didn’t matter that he was dead, and that nothing could hurt him now. He wasn’t about to let this weird teenaged demon get anywhere near him. He gripped Cas tighter and edged back from the hand that was moving toward him. 

He stopped reaching for Cas, and instead, reached out to the air between him and the lake. He extended one finger and seemed to make a slice in the air. There was a fiery line that formed again, like it had before—a portal.

Dean felt his grip on Cas loosen just a bit. His gaze moved back and forth from the portal to the naked young man and back. His mom was in there. Lucifer was in there too. He was an equal mix of fear and hope. Dean thought he might be able to get to his mom. He worried about what might happen if he encountered Lucifer.

Dean returned his gaze to Cas and felt the deep, deep longing to fix everything return to him again. He knew he should get up. He knew he should let Cas go, do some saving in the other realm. After all, how long would his mom survive over there? He just couldn’t get moving. The naked young man said, “He feels your longing.”

“What the hell?” Dean pulled Cas tight to his chest again.

“He’s coming.” He smiled again, in that creepy, creepy way of his. “Your brother is in the house, sleeping. He was made to sleep. I thought it best not to disturb him.” He stepped away from Dean then, toward the lake, just as Mo had done before him. 

“Who are you?” Dean managed to ask.

“She named me Jack.” He moved to the water then and added, “Thank you.” And like that he ran over the surface of the water and away. Dean watched the trail of the water spew out in tiny wavelets from Jack’s feet.

There was a snap of energy from the portal. Dean’s vision moved to it in an instant. “What the fuck?”


	3. The Wanderer, Harried for Years on End

> _ “He never knew what he was to me. I always meant to make more of our friendship. I did not know what he was to me till he was gone. Such words are the poisoned arrows which cruel Death shoots backward at us from the door of the sepulchre.”   _ Harriet Beecher Stowe,  _ Little Foxes _

 

The moment seemed suddenly illuminated. Cas was in his arms, dead and gone from his life. Before him, though, stood Cas. He was wrapped up in a thick woven fabric that looked coarse and uncomfortable. He was so covered that Dean might not have recognized him except for the fact that his eyes glowed bright and blue, illuminating his face. Dean could not look away. 

This Cas came toward him. He stopped just near enough to touch Dean if he wanted to. He looked down at the body of Dean’s Cas. He looked from that face to Dean’s. “I felt your longing,” the simple words were growled out at him, almost in accusation. He came down into a crouch and braced his arms in front of himself on his knees. “I have dreamt your face countless times, and yet you never existed. Who are you?” He tipped his head to the side.

Dean was slowly processing all that was happening in front of him. He didn’t understand any of it. The portal flickered. “I’m Dean Winchester,” he finally answered the question.

The portal vanished. Cas got up and moved to the space that had held the light mere moments before. “That is inconvenient.” He waved a hand up over the space that once held the gateway back.

He turned back to Dean, but before he could speak, Dean asked, “Who are you?”

Cas looked down at the face of Dean’s Cas then back before he answered. “They called me the Wanderer. I’ve had many names though. I was once Cassiel, Castiel, Cas, Fallen One, Cursed, and many names that your human ears will not recognize as anything more than painful noise.” He came back down to a crouch again. “He is your Castiel?”

“He is.” Dean didn’t want to fight the wording on this one. This was his Castiel as much as he was Castiel’s Dean. Time in Cora taught him that. Time in general had taught him that.

“It is strange that we each found our way to the same vessels.” He reached out toward Cas and then hesitated, glancing at Dean for permission. Dean nodded. “James gave me permission when his wife and child were killed. He hunted the demons that took them, but he knew he’d need greater strength to defeat them. I promised to help him. I’ve yet to keep my promise. We have defeated one, but there are still others.” Cas reached up and let his fingers run over a thin scar that ran from his temple to his jaw. “They leave wounds that even I can’t heal.”

“Can you heal him?” Dean finally asked, glancing down at Cas in his arms to make his request clear.

Cas just looked at him a moment. “Could your Cas resurrect the dead?”

“He brought me back from Hell, my brother too. There were many things that he was able to do. There were limits though.” There was silence between them for a moment then Dean asked again, “So, can you fix him?”

The Wanderer, this Cas, settled his hand on Cas’ cheek. His eyes glowed. He then reached up to Dean and cupped his face in his hand. His eyes glowed again. Cas was still dead. “I could heal his body, but I could not restore his grace. There are remnants of him still in there, memories. You hold a bit of him too.” He let Dean go and folded his arms over his knees again. “He was alone in there when the end came for him. Where was his human?”

Dean had to process that a moment. “His human?” he finally asked.

“His James?”

“Oh, Jimmy died a long time ago. Lucifer took them out, and God brought Cas back in a remade body that resembled Jimmy. I think Jimmy is in heaven now along with his wife Amelia.”

“And their child, the girl?” Cas asked.

“Claire is alive and well. She’s a hunter. Tough as nails.” Dean spoke with pride.

Cas fell back a little his fingers curled into the earth at his sides. “I hear you. I understand.”

“What?” Dean felt a sudden surge of worry.

“James wants to know who is caring for her?” Cas looked concerned. His hands clawed at the ground like he was in pain. 

“She’s an adult. She cares for herself. She’s also got Jody. She’s been looking after her like a mom does.” Dean was trying to figure out where this was going.

“I don’t know.” Cas got up swiftly. “I said I don’t know.” He gripped his head tight and fell to his knees. “Don’t do this James.” Cas yelled a bit and gripped his head tighter. “We can go to her and see her. We don’t have to go back into the other world.”

Dean lowered his Cas to the earth and got up to approach the other Cas. “Are you okay?” A moment more and he reached out to him. He touched his shoulder and said, “What’s happening?”

Cas bent over in half, his forehead to the ground he said, “James wants me to go. He wants to find his daughter.” Cas stiffened and shot into a full upright position. He then fell back to the earth on his back. His eyes glowed blue. His back arched up and grace shot up out of his mouth. 

“Holy shit,” Dean said. He jumped back. The grace hovered in the space near them. James scurried back from it. His eyes no longer glowed. They were still blue though, blue and very human. Dean touched him and said, “You okay?”

“I am.” They each watched the grace as it hovered, wondering what it would do next. Dean glanced at his Cas, the body so still and lifeless beside him. He still felt the rage and utter defeat that would forever come with each glance at him as he was now. The grace flowed toward him, and entered his mouth. Cas’ back arched up and his body took in a sharp breath.

“No, no, no, no,” Dean said. “You can’t have him. You can’t have him.” He fell to his knees now and gripped his coat in his fists. “No.” It was a muttered final protest.

Cas sat up. He looked at his hands, turning them over and back, like they were new to him. He looked down at Dean’s hands clutching his coat, pressing to his chest. His brows came together, and he stared at Dean like he was trying to read him, see something that he’d missed before. “Dean?” Then Cas glanced over at James. “This is very different.” The sound of his name on Cas’ lips fucked Dean up in an instant. Dean dipped his head down to his chest and let him go. There was no winning now. There was just this.

 

* * *

 

Dean left them in the yard to seek out Sam. He could hear their quiet conversation in his wake, but he was sure that this was the end for him. He’d lost, and now he’d be damned if he was going to spend any time whatsoever staring at not one, but two desperate reminders of all of his failures. 

He entered the house to find Sam sitting on the floor, back to the wall, staring distantly at the other end of the room, at nothing. Dean came to his side and slid down the wall to sit next to him. They didn’t speak for a time. There was no hurry. Their worlds were already fucked. It wouldn’t get any worse in the time that they just sat there doing nothing. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. “You could have told him to give me that life. You could have left me to it.”

Dean looked at him then back at the distant wall. “He never gave me that option.” They fell into silence again.

“How do we save mom?” Sam asked.

“Don't know.” Dean got up then. He did still have that one mission. Mom didn't deserve to be left in a fucked up wasteland with Lucifer. Dean reached down to Sam. “Come on. There's something you need to see.”

Sam took his hand and let Dean pull him up. They headed to the front door. Just as Dean gripped the handle to open the door, Sam set his hand on Dean's shoulder then pulled him into a hug. “I'm sorry, Dean.” A moment passed, and Dean returned the hug. He wouldn't let himself cry again. He'd soldier on.

“It's okay.”

Sam let him go and said, “It's not, but we'll get through.” Dean just nodded. They stepped outside into the dawn. The two of them were just sitting by the lake, staring out at the water. “What the hell is…” Sam seemed to freeze up at his side, then he ran over to the lake with a yelled, “Cas!”

Dean's heart froze up a little more with that. His entire body froze when he should have been reaching out and stopping Sam. The two of them just looked at Sam as he came to a sudden halt in front of them, likely realizing that something was wrong with a world that had two men that looked like Cas in it. James stood first. Dean could hear him even at this distance. “He's not your Cas.” 

Dean found the strength to move again. He stalked over to them and said, “Sam, this is James and the Wanderer. They came from the portal.” He would not call him Cas. 

“It opened again?” Sam looked to Dean for an answer.

“Yes. Jack opened it.” Dean couldn't look at the Wanderer. He could barely glance at James.

“So that world had two Castiels?” Sam asked.

James answered, “No, it had me riding shotgun to Castiel there.” He pointed at the Wanderer with his thumb. “When your brother told me that my daughter was alive here, I decided that Castiel and I could part ways. His mission would not allow him to remain here.”

Dean threw a glance at the Wanderer and practically spat, “So you steal his body and then think you can just take it to Thunderdome, huh? That’s your plan?”

“I don't understand that reference,” the Wanderer replied.

Dean waved a hand and scoffed, “Oh fuck me, don't. Just don't.” He stormed away from them, leaving Sam behind to get caught up.

The Impala was there. He got in, found a tape, and pushed it into the deck. He started the car, tipped his head back, and let the music drown out the world.

 

* * *

 

At some point, the B side of the tape ended and Dean didn’t flip it back to the start. He just stared out  at the bright daytime sky. The passenger door opened, and the Wanderer took a seat. He closed the door a little too loudly. “They’ve made decisions about what comes next.”

“And they sent you to deliver the message?” Dean kept staring ahead.

“Yes,” he didn’t seem to be phased by Dean’s tone. “James offered to help Sam with the pyre for the woman.”

Dean glanced at him then. “Too special to get your own hands dirty?” Dean looked away again.

“They are not my hands.” He held his hands out in front of him and turned them over and back again. Dean shot a quick glance at him then propped his elbow up on the window frame. He brought his thumb to his lip and chewed at his thumbnail a little in concentration. “I understand that this is difficult.”

“You don’t understand jack shit.” Dean practically slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. 

“I understand more than you are giving me credit for.” Dean didn’t have the strength to fight him on this. Instead he ripped open the door and got out. The Wanderer followed him. “Stop, Dean.” He actually grabbed Dean’s arm halfway between the car and the cabin.

Dean spun around. “Get your hand off of me!”

He didn’t let Dean go. Instead he held him a little tighter. “You think you’re the only one that knows what it is to lose something? Someone?”

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about loss. You’re an angel from a world that was filled with dick angels that went around slaughtering people. You expect me and you to have some moment, bond over our shared experiences? I can’t even look at you!” Dean tried to shrug away from the grip that the Wanderer had on him. Cas would have let him. He understood how much Dean needed to feel like he had some power. This one though, this  _ Not Cas _ was a dick, and he held on.

“Have you always been so confident in your beliefs, even when you are wrong?” He didn’t wait for Dean to reply. He continued, “There’s a reason I have so many names. I have been cast out of heaven. My brethren did not approve of my ways, just as I did not approve of their practices against humanity. They tortured me, said they’d reset my thinking, then when all else failed, they cast me out. I’ve been hunted. I’ve rebelled. All because…” He looked away, and his grip on Dean relaxed.

“All because of what?” Dean’s tone still carried the anger from before, but it was softer now. 

“Angels don’t dream, but I did. I saw things, this world.” He let Dean go and turned away. “I didn’t know what I was seeing at the time. I thought I was seeing the future, a world that wasn’t ruined. I thought that if I rebelled, fought for the humans, that I could fix things there. They said I was broken, cursed. I did what I could. We are all connected. They never ceased calling out to me. Then they hunted me. They were my brethren, and they came to wish for my death.”

“And you saw this place?” Dean sounded skeptical, but he believed him.

“I saw you, and sometimes your brother. I believe that I was seeing through his eyes now. The visions, the dreams, they are part of his memories, so they must have come from him.”

“You can see his memories?” Dean moved to stand in front of him. He watched him now for reactions. 

He didn’t look at Dean. He closed his eyes. “He was an angel. Such thoughts were an abomination. He did not tell you though, all that he wanted. Maybe he didn’t know himself that it was want. Angels aren’t equipped to understand all of that so well.”

“I don’t know what you mean?” Dean’s words came out quiet, like a whisper on the cool morning air. 

The Wanderer opened his eyes and looked at him. “Don’t lie. You know.” He turned away from Dean then and headed back toward the house. “I’m going to go help them with the pyre.”

Dean stayed where he was for a moment before following to help.

 

* * *

 

They burned Kelly’s body. Dean didn’t know what to feel as he watched her turn to ash. It was another death he’d have liked to have prevented. They stayed long past what was necessary, watching the smoke curl up into the intensely blue sky. Dean walked back to the car, and the others followed him. Sam took his spot in the passenger’s seat, and James and the Wanderer slid into the back seat. 

James said, “Wouldn’t it be easier if we just had Castiel zap us there?”

At the same time, both Sam and Dean said, “No!”

“I don’t understand the reluctance. It is perfectly safe,” the Wanderer said.

“I barely let Cas do that back in the day. Not about to trust you to do it.” Dean gripped the steering wheel and got the car going before anyone else could mount an argument. They rolled out of the lot and onto the road. Everyone fell into a somewhat uncomfortable silence. 

They’d talked about where they’d go. James was determined that they needed to go to Claire first. Dean wanted to find Jack and get the portal opened up again. The way Jack crossed the lake meant that he was heading south, but that could be temporary. He texted Claire and asked where she was. She texted back almost immediately,  _ El Paso. _ For now, they had a direction that everyone could mutually agree upon. They’d go south. They’d look for Jack on the way.

Dean tried to convince the Wanderer that he’d be better off waiting at the cabin. That didn’t go over well at all. He was determined to find the portal right along with them. So they drove. The trees flew by, and the asphalt blurred on the horizon. Dean dreamed of better days as the road took up his vision. 

Dean opted not to head due south. He angled their journey a bit to the east. If they were going to make it all the way to El Paso, he figured he might as well. Finding Jack wouldn’t happen by chance. They couldn’t just set off on the right road and find him, but El Paso was doable, and reuniting Claire with this pseudo father was something that could be done. He wondered if he should prepare her. He wondered if this would go as wrong as he thought it could.

They made it to Utah before stopping. They were exhausted. “It is pointless to stop. I do not require sleep.” The Wanderer rounded the car to Dean then and stopped him with a hand to his chest. 

Dean swatted his hand away and said, “Not everyone is a dick angel. Some of us need sleep.” He started to move off to the front office. 

“I can drive while you humans sleep. I am capable of operating this primitive piece of machinery.” 

Dean turned back. “Primitive?” The Wanderer just looked at him, all challenge. “You aren’t fit to drive Baby. We’re staying the night, and that’s final.”

“You are ridiculous.” The Wanderer turned from him and walked back to the car. Dean secured the rooms and got their bags. 

“How we doing this?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how are we dividing up? Should we be keeping an eye on either of them?” 

Dean glanced over at them both as they leaned against the wall of the motel. “No. I’m sure I won’t sleep if either of them is in the room with me. Let them keep each other company.”

“Wanna talk about the elephant in the room?” Sam closed the trunk. 

“Nope.” Dean moved ahead of him toward their rooms. He tossed a key to James. “Your room is next to mine and Sam’s. See you both in the am.” They moved off and left them to figure it out.

Once the door closed behind them and Dean had tossed his bag on the bed, Sam tried again. “Dean, it’s gotta be bothering you.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking bothering me.” Dean sat on the bed and pulled at his laces until he could get his boots off. 

“And…” Sam tried again.

“He took Cas’ body. He’s gonna take it all the way back to that hell world he came from. Oh, and he’s an asshole. Nothing like Cas at all.”

“Well, maybe a little like Cas,” Sam practically said under his breath. Dean heard him though.

“He’s nothing like Cas, nothing.” Dean pulled his shirt off over his head and threw it into the corner. He stripped off his pants and tossed aside the comforter. He crawled into the bed. 

“He came from a world that didn’t have us. I imagine Cas would have been like that if he’d never met us. We kinda had an influence on him.” Dean rolled away so he could feign sleeping. Sam kept talking though. “He said that he dreamed of you. He said that he saw you in…” Sam stopped a moment, and Dean rolled back over to face him.

“He saw me where?”

“A lot of places. He said he first saw you in Hell. Later he saw you everywhere. He said that Cas was…” Sam stopped again. He looked away. “Nevermind.”

Dean sat up a little. “Cas was what?”

Sam didn’t answer. “It doesn’t matter.” Sam stripped down and got into his bed. 

Dean laid back down. “I don’t trust him.”

“He’s Cas. He’s just a different version of him.” Sam rolled onto his side and faced Dean.

“He’s not Cas.”

“Well, he’s not, not Cas either.”

Dean rolled to face the wall again. “Shut up, Sam.”

“Fine.”

 

* * *

 

Something caused him to wake up. Dean laid in the dark and listened to the night noises, the creak of the upstairs floor being walked on, the distant shutting of a door. There was a familiar noise coming from the parking lot. He got up and moved to the door. He opened it and saw someone getting into his car.

“Hey!” Dean rushed out to the vehicle. “What the fuck are you doing?”

James got out of the car. “I was stealing your car.”

“Why the fuck would you do that? Dean came around and inspected her for damage. 

“I don’t trust that you or Castiel will get me to Claire. You have your own agendas. You don’t have a child. You don’t know what I’ve been through. My loss won’t matter to any of you if you get what you need, the portal open and access to that realm.”

“It’s not like Claire’s going anywhere. Even if we left, you’d still be able to find her.” Dean pushed James away from his car. “You’re just screwing us over by doing this.” 

“He doesn’t care whether or not we find her. He just wants to go back through.”

“He’s been helping you track the demon bastards that killed your family, though, hasn’t he?” Dean asked.

“He has.” James looked back toward the room that they were sharing. “He needed me though. He needed an acceptable vessel so that he could get away from the angels that were pursuing him. He needed my body so that he could leave heaven, be among the humans.”

“Why did he want that? I mean, why not just make things work with the angels?” Dean asked.

James paced a bit, ran his hand up through his hair, then said, “He wasn’t like the other angels. He actually cared about the humans. He fought with them when we happened upon a situation that called for action. The humans called him the Wanderer. The names the angels gave him were not kind.”

Dean thought about that for a moment. “You have memories of what was going on while you shared your body with him?”

“Yes, of course I do.” James looked at him strangely then seemed to understand. “Oh, I see. Other angels, the not Cas angels, they seek to suppress the human that they share space with. By doing that they can keep the human from ejecting them. Make the human happy, give them either chaos or a dream world to get lost in and they don’t realize that they have any power or autonomy. Cas and I were equals. We talked. I’d almost say we were friends.”

“Friends?” Dean asked.

“Well, I’m not sure he fully grasps how friendship works, but yeah. He cared about my family receiving justice. He cared about fixing things in our world so that humans wouldn’t suffer anymore. He said that he’d seen better, and that we could make that place good if we just fight for it. It’s why I think he’ll want to get back so quickly. Something shifted there when we left. Cas thinks that a great battle is brewing. He fears for the humans and their chances of survival.” James looked earnest.

“You said he also cared about your family receiving justice. He’s not gonna keep you from finding Claire, and neither am I. She deserves a second shot with you. It nearly destroyed her losing her dad.”

James looked down at the space between his shoes. “I’m sorry. I am not use to trusting people.” He looked up. “You care about my daughter a great deal?” It was almost just a statement.

Dean smiled at him as he answered. “Yes. I imagine that if I were ever lucky enough to be a real father, that I would want to have a kid like her. She’s tough, and kind, and pretty damn funny. She deserves a bit of good.”

“Well, I guess I better stop trying to steal your car.” James looked at him and smiled all gummy and a little too much like Cas. 

“You hurt my car and I really will have to kill you.” Dean smiled back and turned to Baby to give her a gentle pat.

“Duly noted,” James said.

Dean turned back to him swiftly. “What did you just say?”

“I hear you,” James started. “No stealing your car.”

“No, what words did you actually just say?” Dean moved toward him.

“Duly noted,” James said hesitantly.

Dean stared at him. “You just pulled those exact words out of nowhere?”

“What’s wrong with you?” James took a step back.

“Cas said that, my Cas. He said that. It’s not a common phrase.” Dean’s hands clenched up into fists at his sides.

“Okay,” James dragged out the word as he said it. “You do realize that we saw your world right. I mean all of it. We saw what your Cas saw.”

“He didn’t say that though when he was alive. I heard it in a fucking dream world. He was dead, and I just imagined him saying it. So why would you know about it?”

“I don’t. I just figured a reminder of what the situation was might be necessary. There are bound to be times when we say things that remind you of your dead angel boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t that,” Dean muttered.

“Like hell he wasn’t. You don’t kiss a person like that if they’re just your buddy. An angel also doesn’t just accidentally do the things your Cas did. He rebelled against heaven, and time and again he did what he could to be with you. And in case  _ your  _ memory of things is lacking. He kissed you back.”

Dean looked away across the parking lot. “Sometimes I don’t know what really happened and what was just a part of that dream world.”

“I don’t know about the dream world beyond what your brother told us. I’m sorry about that.” James moved to Dean’s side. “I do know that you suffered a great loss. Castiel had a hard time with some of what he saw between you two. He said that it seemed foolish for your Cas to risk your life like he did. He said that he thought your Cas was selfish.”

“Well, he can just shut his cakehole.”

James laughed. “I think it was easier for your Cas. He had you and Sam. My Cas just had me, a messed up guy that lost everything and had no hope of ever getting it back. I just had my desire for their blood. I just had a mission. So in that, he and I are alike. We are driven by missions.”

“And now there’s a little hope of something better. Claire is alive.”

“Yeah.” James smiled a little. They stood silently together in the dark parking lot, letting memories consume them both. Dean turned back to his room first. He gave James a small wave. They parted at their respective doors.

 

* * *

 

The drive the next morning was going to be no shorter than the first. Sam got coffee and breakfast sandwiches for them from the fast food joint down the street. The grease of it covered Dean’s lips as he ate and drove down the long highway. Every now and then he glanced into the rearview mirror and saw the Wanderer staring back at him. It was unnerving.

He also worried as he drove. Claire didn’t reply back to his last message. It hadn’t been incredibly long, but it was long enough to get him a touch unsettled. He drove a little faster and grumbled a little more when anyone tried to pull him into conversation.

This left Sam carrying the weight of the silences and having to drum up talk. He did okay. “So, what’ll happen when we find the portal? You thinking you’ll head back, Cas?”

Dean glanced into the mirror again. He ground his teeth together to keep from speaking. It was hard enough hearing Sam call him Cas. He could handle James doing it for some reason. He had been calling him that for years. When Sam did it though it felt like a betrayal. Now he was asking whether or not he’d be taking Cas’ body through the portal, like it is a perfectly fine thing to do.

The Wanderer stared steadily at him through the mirror as he spoke. “I had intended to go back as soon as the portal presented itself.”

“Past tense there,” Sam pointed out. “Something change?”

“I’m not sure. I thought that I understood things. I know now that I was maybe wrong on several accounts.” The Wanderer looked away.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“I thought that the visions I was getting came from God. I thought that he was showing me what the world there could be if I fought for it.” He paused and took a needless breath. “I was wrong. I was just seeing this world. A world through your Castiel’s eyes.” He sighed. “It is paradise here.”

Dean snort laughed. “Yeah, right.”

The Wanderer’s gaze shot back to him in the mirror. “You don’t know. The place we come from is nothing like this. You have a good life here.”

“Sam and I have been fighting since he was a baby. You don’t know! If this is paradise, then we’re screwed.” Dean stopped glancing at the mirror. The road ahead was long and straight. The land was all shades of red under the hot morning sun. The temperature stood in stark contrast to what he’d experienced in Washington. It did nothing though to thaw his feelings toward the angel in the back seat. He was inconsiderate, cold, and a thief. Dean had no room in himself for forgiveness or tolerance.

The Wanderer spoke again, quieter this time. “I wish you could see it more than you did, just so you’d know. You’d know the way we know your world. The small visions we’d gained through Castiel were things of beauty, even the fighting and the many times that you all thwarted apocalyptic events. We lived without hope of it ever getting better.”

James interrupted him saying, “You know much of pain and loss. That isn’t what Cas is saying. Our world though was a terrible world. It was a world that would destroy all humans slowly and with great pain. Once your Cas gave us a vision of Claire. We believed that if we fought hard enough over there, if we defeated the demons that took my family, and any others that crossed us, that I might get her back. It seemed like God was showing me a reward for my efforts. Everything we saw was just…”

Dean interrupted now, “So you’ve seen Claire?”

“Yes. Like I said, I didn’t think she was alive. I thought that God was showing us what we could gain back if we played our parts.” 

Dean glanced at Sam. “Playing their parts.” 

Sam said, “Sounds a lot like that dick Zachariah.”

The Wanderer leaned into the seat between Dean and Sam. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Yes, he’s a dick,” Dean spat out. “Guess he’s still around in your world then.”

“Very much,” the Wanderer’s face wrinkled up in disgust. He turned his face more toward Dean then and added, “I guess we found something on which we agree.”

“Well, thank God for small favors.” Dean leaned forward and pushed a tape into the deck. He cranked up the volume and let the car fill up with Metallica. 

Dean heard the Wanderer as he moved back into his seat. “I guess that vision was true too.” 

James responded, “Yeah, how can he stand that music?”

The Wanderer shrugged. “It grows on you, I suppose.”

Dean watched all of this as subtly as he could, then ignored them in favor of the open road.

 

* * *

 

The Impala broke down somewhere outside of Zion National Park. Dean cursed as he tossed his bag back into the trunk. “Gonna have to get some parts. I shoulda known the belt was no good.”

Sam gave him a comforting pat. “Should be an easy fix.”

“Yeah, if they have what I need.” Dean shielded his eyes from the sun. He got them to a parking lot at least. The heat from the asphalt was cooking him up a bit. Sam was already looking on his phone for places they could go.

“I could just…” the Wanderer reached out like he was going to zap them all to somewhere.

Dean ducked away from him and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. We already covered how that wasn’t gonna happen.”

“Hey, got a place not to far from here. Looks like we’re in Springdale. We can get a room and wait for you to get the repair done,” Sam said.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean leaned over to look at Sam’s phone. “That’s walkable. You all go into town, get some lunch, and I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“You sure?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.” Dean started off and at first, didn’t notice the body that took up residence at his side. “Go with them.”

“No point. I don’t require food.” The Wanderer matched his steps to Dean’s.

“This will be boring.”

“So will eating food. I’m not going with them.” They walked on. 

They had to cover about two miles. Dean felt the heat of the road and the sun in equal measure. He also felt the warmth of the body pacing him. He thought of Cas. He thought of the million and one times that they walked like this, so close that he could feel him. Dean took an odd step that created a little distance between himself and the Wanderer. He tried to focus on something else, the million little rocks stuck in the tar of the asphalt beneath his feet.

“So what were you doing last night while James was trying to steal my car?” Dean tossed a glance at him.

“Sitting by the window, watching him try to steal your car.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s step faltered.

“Yes.”

Dean stopped and just looked at him. The Wanderer took two extra steps before turning toward Dean. “You weren’t even going to stop him?”

“We should keep walking. You can be indignant while you walk.” The Wanderer turned back toward their path. Dean followed. “And no, I wasn’t going to stop him directly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s stubborn. I had to let him do that. I woke you up though. You took care of it.” He said it all in such a matter of fact manner that Dean nearly stopped again as he took it all in.

“Wait, what?” Dean picked up the pace to come up alongside of him again. “You woke me up?”

“It was nothing. It was just a little pulse to get you awake enough to hear your car door opening. Didn’t even phase your brother.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. He must be a heavier sleeper than you.” The Wanderer smiled.

Dean scowled. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, how did you send a pulse or whatever you called it? What is it?”

“Oh, you want to know the technicals.” The Wanderer hummed a bit as he thought about it. “It seems we have a bit of a connection, likely something to do with your Cas. I just followed that connection to you. Cas was connected to your brother too, so I thought that you two being in proximity to each other would be an issue. It wasn’t though. Good to know.”

“Wait, you’re saying that you are using my connection to Cas? You have access to his body, so you have access to me?” Dean threw up his arms and quickened his pace. “Fuck!” 

“I don’t see why this is upsetting to you.”

“You wouldn’t.” Dean didn’t want him to catch up so he kept up the fast pace. Dean felt a small surge of energy, a strange tugging deep in his gut. It was like all the times Cas said he was going to leave, going to run back off to heaven or a mission. He stopped walking again and bent over double, clutching at his stomach as he did so.

The feeling stopped. “I’m sorry.”

Dean looked up. “Sorry?”

“I used the connection again. I wanted to understand. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He looked genuinely sincere.

“That was you?”

“Apparently.”

“Don’t do that,” Dean growled out.

“It never had this effect on you when your Castiel did this.”

“You are not him.” Dean stood again and walked. He didn’t look back, and the Wanderer didn’t pace him. He followed at a distance.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully the shop wasn’t so far away. They got there quickly. Unfortunately, the part had to be ordered. Bill, the shop owner, said they could get it in two days if he put a rush on it. Dean agreed to that. It was the best they could do. Bill drove the tow truck out and hauled the Impala into his shop. He then gave Dean and the Wanderer a ride back into town. 

They found James and Sam at a little diner. The town was nice, not a run down place. It catered to the tourists that would come each summer to visit the national parks. They had trouble finding a room. Sam worked some magic though and got them a place. One room, two beds was hardly sufficient, but it would do.

“You should get some rest first,” Sam said to Dean.

“Not tired.” Dean sat at the little table that was situated at the window. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“It’s a bit toasty out there.” James tossed him a water bottle. Dean caught it. “You should take this with ya.”

Dean nodded. “Thanks.” Dean got out of the room only to find the Wanderer staring at a vending machine. “Thought you didn’t eat.”

He looked up at Dean. “I don’t. I’m just amused is all.”

“Amused?”

He stepped toward Dean. “Amused. You have so much food it can just sit in an easily broken box right out in the open. People choose to put money into it to get food. Amazing.”

“Mmmhmm.” Dean turned toward the parking lot and the land that was beyond it. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but away from the too small room was part of the mission. 

“Are you going to buy food from the box?”

Dean turned back to him and said, “No.” He began walking away. The Wanderer paced him. “I’m going for a walk. The room felt too small.”

“I understand.”

Dean felt something hitch up in his chest a little. He was trying, really trying not to think about all the ways that this wasn’t Cas, but with every word, every phrase there was just too much familiarity. “Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I was hoping to be by myself for a bit.”

“Oh.” He kept pacing Dean. “Are you going to a bar to secure sexual congress this evening?”

Dean stopped mid-step. “Uh, no!”

“There is no shame in that.”

“I’m not,” Dean kept walking. The Wanderer paced him again.  _ Clearly, he’s not picking up on the message here. _ “Hard to be alone when you aren’t.”

“This is true. There were many times when James and I struggled with that.” They kept walking. “In our world though, there was safety in being with others. It was better that way.”

“I suppose.” Dean gave up and let him tag along. By now they were on one of the many trails that ran off into park land. The earth was all golden and red. Everything seemed bright and picture postcard perfect. “I came to that conclusion too recently.”

They walked on in silence after that. Dean focused on the crunching sounds of their feet on the path, the dusty scent of the air. It was dry and hot. He found a large outcropping of rock and climbed up onto it. Dean sat and stared at the world in front of him from there. The Wanderer climbed up and joined him. 

“I think if my world was like yours I’d just sit like this and watch.”

“Watch what?” Dean asked.

“Everything.” Dean watched him a bit. He imagined that he was Cas. He thought it might be easier. The sunlight caught his hair and made it look a little lighter in parts. Dean looked away and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“It’s different here, but I don’t know if that makes it better.”

The Wanderer turned to him. He set a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It is. Believe me, Dean. It is.” And he spoke with such intensity that Dean felt that he maybe had to believe him just a little.

 

* * *

 

They had some dinner all crammed around the small motel table. Dean and James sat on the bed facing the table, while Sam and the Wanderer sat at the table in normal chairs. It was mostly a dinner filled with quiet chewing noises and the Wanderer staring out the window. Dean wondered how the evening would play out. He was already making plans to leave for the night. He figured he could sleep in his car out at the shop. It might be wrong to leave Sam to deal with them, but Dean knew he understood. It was hard enough pushing everything down as it was.

Sam interrupted the quiet to ask a question. “So, we know how our Cas met Jimmy, but how did you two meet?”

Dean perked up a little and looked from one to the other. James answered. “I’d already lost Amelia and Claire. I was working with a small resistance group. Cas here,” James thumbed at him, “He would show up and throw down with us on some of the hard jobs. He wasn’t like this though.”

“What he means is that I was in a different vessel. She was a relative of James’ who was kind enough to let me utilize her. We had a deal though, for a set amount of time.”

“So you hopped from her to Jimmy here?” Sam asked.

James looked at Sam then and said, “Nobody’s called me Jimmy since Amelia.”

“Oh, sorry,” Sam said. 

“It’s fine. I’m just not use to it.” He swiped a hand up through his hair and it stood on end. “You aren’t wrong though. He asked me for consent. I thought it over. I knew he was different from the other angels. He kept his word. He didn’t try to manipulate you like they did.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

The Wanderer answered, “My brethren have many methods for securing consent. They are not opposed to torture of a physical or psychological sort. They would absolutely use one’s family to gain what they wanted. They were cruel and also creative.”

James added, “They were also liars. I was lucky. To be in another angel’s line would have meant unspeakable cruelties for my family. Of course, I gave consent.”

“We have had some good years you and I.” The Wanderer’s tone was one of affection. James smiled at him and nodded.

Dean asked, “And what would have happened if Cas’ body hadn’t been there when he ejected you?”

He turned his gaze to Dean then. “I don’t know. I suppose I’d have to seek out another viable vessel or just return to heaven. Your heaven seems to be less accessible though.”

Dean pressed on. “What if the only other viable vessel was Claire?”

“I’d ask nicely.” The Wanderer folded his hands in front of him as he spoke.

“And if she said no?” Dean wasn’t sure what he was after, some chink in the armor of his stoicism maybe.

“Like I said, I’d seek out heaven. I would not force a human’s consent. It is important. It is one of God’s gifts—your free will. You know this, Dean. You spoke to your Cas of it some years ago. Why would you think that I’d view it as any less sacred?”

Dean got up and tossed his wrapper in the trash. “I don’t know. I’ve just had more experience with dick angels than I care to talk about.”

He got up and stood too close to Dean. “I think it has been established that I don’t support the,” he raised his hands up and made air quotes, “dick angels.”

Dean took a step back. “Fuck.” He looked away. “Can you just not.” He grabbed his bag and hoisted it up onto his shoulder. Dean turned to Sam. “I’m going to the shop. Gonna sleep in my car.”

“You don’t have to.” Sam got up and crossed to him. Dean tried to communicate more in a glance. “I’ll see you in the morning,” Sam added, seeming to catch the desperation in Dean’s eyes.

“Thank you Sammy.” Dean stepped out the door and felt some measure of gratitude that no one followed him out his time.

 

* * *

 

He curled up in the front seat and punched down his bag a little, using it as a type of pillow. He took off his jacket and used it as a blanket. The night would be long. It was dark, but too early for sleep. He slipped his key into the ignition and turned on the auxillary, just to listen to some music for a bit. He stared up at the ceiling of the Impala, and played out the day. He dropped his hand down to the box of tapes that were carefully tucked under the seat. His fingers fumbled around one, and he didn’t even look at it before pushing it into the deck.

He closed his eyes as the first song filled the car. He almost turned it off. “Ramble On” was almost too pumped up for the somber moment he was having. He let it play though, knowing full-well what tape it was. He closed his eyes and let himself feel. He’d managed to avoid this tape since he’d made the other one that was all too similar. The other one had thirteen tracks though. This one had thirteen tracks too, but only twelve of them were songs..

“Ramble On” kept on playing like an encouragement. He remembered recording it onto a tape for Cas. He knew he was listening to a bunch of religious talk radio and when he had to, Crowley. Dean made the tape to save him from all of that. There was more to it than that, but at first, that was all it was.

As he went through the songs, the reason for the gift changed. He chose “Whole Lotta Love” and told himself it was just because it was a great song. He tossed “Kashmir” on to just change up the tone a little. He still refused to acknowledge why he was doing any of it. Then he threw in “Traveling Riverside Blues” because it was a favorite. He stopped then and thought about what he was doing, why it mattered, then why Cas mattered.

Dean remembered the moment he added “Thank You.” It was the moment that he acknowledged to himself that it was all about more. He needed Cas to know what he meant, what he’d always mean. The songs spoke for him. He found the ones that were full of need and want. He found the ones that rocked. He found so many slices of what they were to each other and threw them onto the mix tape that he’d press into his hands the next time he saw him. 

The tape in his deck now was not the same, but it was almost Cas’. The twelve songs were just as carefully chosen, but where the thirteenth track went, he recorded a message. He kept both tapes close. He wasn’t sure which one to give. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for so much sharing. In the end he gave Cas the message-free tape. He rationalized that there would be time enough for talking someday.

Now with his eyes closed he listened to song after song. He remembered the taste of him on his lips. He remembered the feel of his hands tangled up in his jacket. He remembered all the times before too, the way he just was. Dean didn’t know how he was going to see a way past this. He felt warmth on his shoulder at the thought of Cas. It was a feeling that had always steadied him when the world was doing its worst. 

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” Dean choked out to the empty car. “You son of a bitch, you said, long after all of ‘em died, you’d be there, right there with me.” The tears flowed freely now. Like some sort of mockery, he could still feel the warmth on his shoulder, the cruel tug of sorts in his gut. It was a bare reminder of all that he had lost. “How could you be gone? How the fuck could you be gone? What am I supposed to do now?” It was a prayer, the kind he had grown use to having with Cas. He’d never exactly been formal with him.

The night wore on, and he finally let himself really cry, really feel what it was to lose. Each song steadily became ruined by the sorrow that rushed through him. He knew he’d likely never listen to this tape again or any of the songs that were a part of it either. Cas’ blue eyes, his gentle smile, his solid presence stayed with him through each melody, and Dean closed his eyes against the world to hold onto him just a little longer.

The tape reached the message track, the thirteenth if one were to be technical. “I don’t reckon you’ll pick up on all the hidden stuff in these songs, buddy. That’s okay though, because I’m here to spell it out for ya.” Dean’s voice filled the car. He rolled over and reached out to the key dangling in the ignition. One twist and he could be done with it. He let it play a bit more though, let the torture go on. “Never told you before, but you know you mean a lot to us.” Dean’s voice faltered. He continued though, “I mean, you mean a lot to me. I don’t deserve a damn thing from you, but god I wanna ask.” There was a fumbling noise. Dean remembered how he dropped the little handheld mic he was using. His hands were a nervous wreck. “Sorry, I just. You know I’m in love with you right? I mean, I think you know. I hope you know. You, you’re everything too. Can’t wait to tell you in person.” Then the tape ended, so Dean shut off the car.

He rolled onto his side and stared down into the wheelwell. It was dark there. He let the tears fall. He closed his eyes again and hoped for a sleep that might wash it all away.

Old Mo came to him and stood at his side. “You clean up nice, Winchester.” Dean smiled and brushed some non-existent dust off his tux. 

“Looks like I’m going to prom or something.”

“Or your brother’s wedding.” Mo took his spot at the head of the aisle.

Dean laughed, “Yeah, can’t believe he beat me to it.” He glanced out to the audience and saw Cas sitting at the end of the front row. He smiled back at Dean.

Soon enough, the procession started, and Dean was joined by Sam, and then Beth. She was cute in her little flower print dress and basket of petals. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony. Sam cleaned up nice too, if Dean were being honest. Dean had tried to convince him that weddings required haircuts, but he was not interested. Sarah didn’t help on that front.

When the wedding march played and she entered, Dean noticed the way that Sam’s eyes seemed to well up. He was happy, and Dean thought,  _ It’s about damn time. _

The reception was nice. They had all the traditional stuff. Dean spent a fair amount of time plying Cas with food. He didn’t seem interested in eating except when Dean was involved in the process. “Here try this one. It’s a pickled deviled egg.” Dean lifted the weird beet colored egg to Cas’ lips.

“That looks unnatural.” Cas opened his mouth anyway, and Dean slipped the whole thing in.

Cas looked a bit overwhelmed by so much egg. He chewed and wrinkled up his features a little. Dean laughed. “What, not your thing?”

Cas got through it and said, “That was, in a word, odd.” He picked another one up then and fed it to Dean. “How can you like this stuff?”

Dean ate the egg. He smiled through it and shrugged. “Raised on bar food and whatever the local convenience stores sold. Guess I have unusual tastes.” He leaned in close to Cas and then swiftly stole a kiss.

“Are you implying that I am like bar food and convenience store eggs?” Cas asked.

“These are fancy eggs, nothing like the stuff that you’d find in the fridge section of the Gas-n-Sip.” Dean kissed him again. “Nah, you’re my fancy friend.”

“Fancy friend, huh?”

“Fancy boyfriend?” Dean raised a brow with the question.

“Well, it’s not like either of us are seeing anyone else. Boyfriend seems like an apt term for me.” And Dean smiled at the easy way it was with Cas. They didn’t waste time dithering around each other. He met him in the hardware store, liked what he saw, and asked him out. They’d been clear and obvious with each other right from the start. 

“You ever wonder what it would have been like if I’d have been a bit more subtle with you back in the hardware store?” Dean moved his arm to the back of Cas’ seat and let his fingers stroke lazy circles into his shoulder.

“As if you’d be able to resist this animal magnetism.” Cas laughed and made a motion with his hands between them. “Sometimes I dream about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, sometimes we are different people. We’re different with each other. It’s a little like you were saying. It’s a what if dream. You never tell me or show me outright that you think of me like the kind of guy you want to have in your bed.”

“That sounds crazy, but okay,” Dean said.

“Well, and I’m just as bad. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous.” Dean laughed at that. Cas continued, “But in the dream, I just run around with you and wait for you, and silently love you.”

“So dream you loves me?” Dean leaned in closer.

“Yeah, he does.” Cas reached up, and Dean thought Cas was going for his cheek. He, instead, set his hand lightly on Dean’s shoulder. The warmth of it there was solid. “Is it too soon to tell you that real me is maybe in love with you too?”

Cas had angled his head down. Dean nosed at his forehead until he looked back into Dean’s eyes. “Love ya too, Cas. God, I think I fell the moment I saw you behind the counter.”

Cas leaned in and kissed him this time. The hand on his shoulder stayed. His other hand found its way up to the back of Dean’s head, where he held him. Dean thought he could stand to live in this moment forever. Dean let his lips part, and Cas let his tongue slide in. Dean settled one of his hands high on Cas’ thigh. He wanted to pull Cas closer, feel his chest pressed against his own, but they were in public, and they were already pushing it where decency was concerned. Dean brought his other hand up between them and set his palm flat against Cas’ chest to just feel his heart beating there.

It beat firm and strong. Dean took pleasure in it. He opened his eyes and stared at Cas as they ended their kiss. “I’ve never felt so alive,” Cas breathed out into the space between them. Something about that shook Dean a little. Cas sounded different. He moved his hand up to Cas’ cheek and just stared at him. He traced out his features. He fell in love with all of the little bits of him that were all so close. “I’ve lived for so many years, fought in wars, the things I’ve seen.” Cas trailed off.

“Cas?” Cas looked away a moment.

When he looked back at Dean he said, “I never lived before. None of that was living. This is living.” He leaned in and kissed Dean again. This time he pulled Dean closer, and kissed with a bit of desperation, as if, at any moment, it would all be snatched away from him. Dean melted into the kiss, but couldn’t lose the worry that came with it. The drag of his stubbled chin, the way their teeth clacked together, the way that his fingers dug in, it was all so filled with need and want. 

Dean broke the kiss this time. He took his face in his hands. The world seemed to be falling away from them. There was just them, just Cas staring at him, like he wanted to dive back into kissing him and also like he was afraid. “I’m here. I love you. You don’t have to be afraid,” Dean said.

“You don’t though,” he said.

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean tried to soothe away the worry lines near his eyes with a swipe of his thumbs.

“You hate me.”

Dean almost laughed. “Don’t be stupid.” He pecked a kiss onto his lips. “I love you.”

And something sad swept over his face. “No, you hate me. You’ll likely always hate me for not being him.” And the world and Cas faded into darkness.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck was that!” Dean grabbed the Wanderer by his, no Cas’, coat and shoved him against the wall of the motel.

Sam tried to get between them, “Dean, whoa, whoa.” He was likely plenty shocked by the fact that Dean slammed into the motel room first thing in the morning and went right after the angel.

Dean didn’t let go, “You tell me right now, what the fuck you thought you were doing?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at Dean. “Let him go Dean,” James asked quietly. Dean turned to him. 

“What happened?” Sam asked again.

“He knows!” Dean let him go and stormed out of the room. He found the familiar trail that he’d walked the other day and took it. The day was already getting warm. He was sweating by the time he reached the rock from the day before. He scooped up a handful of little rocks and climbed up. He proceeded to throw them with some force out into the open land in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” The voice nearly startled him off the rock.

Dean threw several rocks at him. “Leave!”

“Let me explain.” He moved closer. Dean continued to pelt him with the little rocks. It was pointless, but he was pissed, so the point didn’t have to be there.

“What, you want to explain how that was okay?” Dean jumped down. “Here’s a newsflash it wasn’t. Look I get that you’re an angel and all that. I get that you don’t understand boundaries or whatnot. Hell, I had to tell Cas all about that. But there is no way in hell you thought that was okay.”

“I,” he started. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that!” Dean kicked out a cloud of dust and turned to walk away. He turned back though. “You know what? Maybe you don’t get it. Here’s how it is. I do hate you right now. I hate every bit of this.” Dean waved his hands around in front of him. “You know, and there’s the kicker, you actually know, because you can see all his memories. You know, what he was to me. But you just strolled on in and took the last little bit of him for yourself. So fuck you. Yeah, I hate you.”

“I understand.” He turned to go back toward the motel.

“Do you even? Can you comprehend what it must be like to have to look at a person who meant everything, but they aren’t there anymore. Every word out of your mouth, every time you say something or do something that he’d do, it kills me. You dick! You heartless, cold, unfeeling dick. You don’t know! You don’t understand! How could you? And now you want to fuck up my dreams too. I only have so much left that is him. But now I gotta wonder every time I think of him, every time I dream…” Dean nearly choked on a sob. “Is it even going to be him?”

The Wanderer turned back to him. “I can never make this right.” Dean started to interrupt, but the Wanderer held up his hand and continued. “His memories, they are part of me now. I feel him, his…” He looked away from Dean and took a deep needless breath. “I feel what he felt. I see what was driving him. He…” His hands shook at his sides. “He loved you.” He looked back up at Dean and said, “I’ll never do that again. I’ll never let myself fall into your dreams like that. It may not have been him in there that I was replacing, but that’s not the point. You deserve your memories unhindered. I’m sorry.”

He turned from Dean then and walked back toward the motel. Dean yelled at him, “Hey!” The Wanderer turned back to him. Dean marched up to him. “Give me his coat.” He just looked at Dean a moment, then he took off the coat. He held it a moment in his hands, his fingers curling up into the fabric like he didn’t want to release it.

He held out the coat to Dean. “Here.”

Dean snatched it out of his hands. He pulled it to his chest. He turned away from him and said, “I don’t want to hate you.” He breathed in and held it. He turned back and saw that the Wanderer was already far down the trail, walking back to the motel. Dean whispered into the space between them. “I really don’t want to hate you.” He pulled the coat to him and breathed into it, seeking out any small scent that might have still been his. He couldn’t be sure though if that too was already lost.

 

* * *

 

He stayed another night in his car, and during the day avoided them all. Sam communicated with him via text. Dean let him help with the car repairs. He even let him in on the drama with a couple of clipped explanations and a warning about not pushing.

Sam, for his part, did not push, at least not much. “It’s gonna be tough, but do you see a solution?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean?”

Sam moved back from the hood as Dean closed it. James and the Wanderer were both at a diner in town. “I mean, seeing him is hard, but maybe not seeing him will be harder.”

“No, I think seeing him but having it not be him is the hardest thing there is.” Dean rounded the car and got in. He was pretty sure that the car was going to work now. He started her up. The engine roared to life. He gave her a little gas. “Now that sounds good.”

Sam leaned into the open window on the passenger’s side and stared at him. “Well, you know I’ve got your back if you need anything. Just let me know.”

“I know, Sam. I don’t know what I want.” He shut off the car and got out. “Frankly, he really doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s a little like Cas was before. Ya know?”

“Yeah, I picked up on that. He’s also not though,” Sam said, and in a way it was like they were making the points that the other had made before.

“That’s maybe the worst of it. He says he understands Cas, has his memories and such, but he pulls shit like the dream walking bit. If he understood, he wouldn’t have done that.”

“Pretty sure he gets it now. He seems pretty miserable.”

“Yeah. Serves him right. It was a dick move.”

Sam nodded and said, “Yeah.” He took a breath and added, “Except he maybe didn’t mean to do it.”

“He meant to.”

“Maybe.”

Dean glared at him a little. “What do you mean by  _ maybe _ ?”

Sam shrugged and said, “It just sounds like maybe he was acting on Cas’ memories. He said they’re a part of him now. You said something about him claiming to feel what Cas felt or something.”

“Yeah, he said that, but that doesn’t mean that he just accidentally dream walked with me.”

Sam shrugged again, and if Dean had been closer he’d have tossed a soft punch at his shoulder to stop him. Instead they had the car between them. Sam leaned on the roof of the Impala and stared across at Dean. “I’m just saying, if you were walking around with someone else’s memories, you might have a hard time knowing what you feel and think separately from them. Seems like it might be easy to make mistakes like the one he made.”

Dean just scowled and got back in the car. “Get in Dr. Phil. We ain’t killing any miles by standing around talking.”

“Fine.” Sam got in and Dean started the car up again. They tore out of the lot and headed to the diner to pick up the others. With any luck, they’d reach El Paso by nightfall.

 

* * *

 

Claire finally responded to Dean’s text.  _ Sorry was knee deep in this. _ Then in a second text sent a few minutes later.  _ Wait ur on your way here? _

Dean handed his phone to Sam, so he could read it. He scrolled a little to read the earlier message. “You haven’t told her anything. Should I give her a heads up on this?” Sam waved at the back seat of the car.

“I don’t know. If she’s on a hunt, we shouldn’t distract her. This is kinda a lot. I figured we could tell her in person.” Dean focused on the road, but his eyes did dart to the mirror where eye contact was made. “Maybe just see where we can meet up.”

Sam started sending the message. James leaned up into the space between them. “How long before we get there?”

Dean said, “Not long now. We have maybe an hour tops.” It wasn’t night yet, but the sun was setting and the vast dry stretches of desert looked a little golden under the retreating sunlight. “So, I know you really want to see her, but I think we’re gonna put you and him in a motel first. I don’t want to shock her.”

“No.” Dean turned to James then. “She hunts. She’s not gonna be shocked. I’ve spent way too many years not seeing my daughter. I’m not gonna go sit in some run down motel room and wait for you all to figure your shit out.”

Dean leaned his head back a little and sighed. “Okay, but at least stay in the car while we tell her what’s up. She’s been through enough. Let’s make this as easy on her as we can.”

James nodded his agreement and settled back into his seat.

 

* * *

 

They rolled into a parking lot just off the train station in town. Dean stared off into the distance at the small hill that flanked one side of the town. Most of Texas was pretty flat, so seeing even a little hill was kinda nice. They’d driven in along the Rio Grande with its murky, muddy water. It didn’t seem so grand.

Claire was parked a little ways away. She looked at them funny as they parked and got out to walk to her. “What you didn’t want to park next to me?” She hollered over. Then she ran over and yanked them both into a hug. “Been too long, you idiots.”

Sam laughed, “Not that long, but yeah.”

She let them go and said, “So there’s no way you were just in the neighborhood. You checking up on me for Jody?”

“No, we had other business to attend to,” Dean said. “How’s your case going?”

Claire waved a hand at the land behind her and said, “I don’t know. Seems to be almost wrapped up. Got a few more things to check on, but it hasn’t been easy this close to the border.”

“I can imagine. Not like you can just hop back and forth with any ease,” Dean said as he squinted off at the direction that he thought Mexico was.

Their conversation came to a screeching halt when Claire yelled, “Cas!” She turned and slugged Dean’s shoulder and added, “You didn’t say you were bringing him along.” She moved past them and threw her arms around the Wanderer. 

Dean scowled at him. “Couldn’t just wait in the car?”

Claire shot Dean a look, then released the Wanderer. “You aren’t Cas.”

“It is complicated,” the Wanderer replied.

“We were about to explain, but yeah, it is pretty complicated, and it’s about to get more complicated.” Dean glanced over toward the car and then back. 

Claire looked at the Wanderer and asked, “Who are you?”

“In my world I was Castiel. Dean refers to me as the Wanderer as it was another name that was given to me. I wanted to meet you.”

“In your world?” Claire raised an eyebrow.

Sam decided to help. “Cas had been tracking a nephilim that was going to be born. Somehow, the nephilim managed to create a portal between our world and another world. It was a kind of apocalyptic wasteland. There were other versions of some of the people here. He crossed over to our world.”

Claire looked at him, really looked at him. “I feel Cas a little.”

Dean stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

She looked at Dean and said, “You feel him too, right?”

Dean didn’t know what to say. “This isn’t Cas.”

“Dean, he’s in here too in a way.” The Wanderer’s words pulled Dean’s focus.

Claire spoke first though. “What do you mean by that? Why would Cas be in there?” She waved a hand around signifying all of him.

Sam said, “Cas died. It was Lucifer that did it.”

Claire looked like she was going to crumble a little. “Oh, not Cas too.” Dean stepped toward her and got an arm around her. The Wanderer moved forward too, like he intended to help.

Dean waved him back and said, “No, I think you’ve done enough.”

“You said he’s in there.” Claire pointed at his chest.

The Wanderer said, “I carry his memories, and some essence of him. He cares for you a great deal.”

Claire slipped out of Dean’s arms. She stepped toward the Wanderer. She looked up at him. The staring lasted longer than should have been comfortable. Then she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Cas.” It was a barely there whisper of a name. “I can still feel him in there.”

“You were his vessel. Your bond was strong.” 

Claire let him go and turned to Dean. “Dean.” She came back to him and pulled him into another hug. “He’s in there, Dean. Can’t you hear him?”

Dean looked at the Wanderer over Claire’s head as he held her. “No, Claire. I really can’t.”

“Guys, is it okay to come over now?” James chose that moment to join the party.

Dean let Claire go and said, “Seems the other world had a version of…”

“Dad?” Claire said before Dean could tell her. “Dad!” 

“Clairebear,” James was tearing up. She rushed into his arms. He held her to him, kissing into her mop of blonde hair. They stood back and watched the reunion. The streetlamps flickered on now that it was full night. The night bugs zipped in and out of the beams like shooting stars. Dean glanced at the Wanderer who was watching Claire and James. Dean focused on him and tried to hear what Claire heard. He only got back silence.

_ Are you really in there, Cas? _ The Wanderer turned just a little and looked at him. Dean looked away.

 

* * *

 

She lead them back to her motel, a cheap little place near the border. “We’ll need to get another room maybe.” Claire looked around her space. Her table was covered in papers, printed articles and old newspapers. “Sam, if you wanna look over the case, everything you need is right there. I’d welcome a second set of eyes.” 

Sam took up residence at the table and pulled the laptop to him. He apparently knew her password, because he got on the thing without a question. Dean felt a strange bit of nervousness quaking through him. He thought that the feeling might just be the norm from here on out. He watched Claire sit on the bed with James across from her. The Wanderer took the seat across from Sam. He was left feeling like there was nowhere for him. 

He walked over to the table and snatched a paper at random to give himself something to do. He took a spot at the wall by the bathroom and leaned into it as he tried to read. James was asking her about her life, about the past. She told him about Jody and Alex. She told him a little about Amelia and how they were before angels were a part of their lives. James listened with rapt attention. 

She asked about his life in the other world. He told her in vague hints that seemed to be concealing a lot that he was a hunter. He spoke of how he and his Castiel worked as a team of sorts. He spoke of how he had always hoped that some good would come of it all. Dean listened and wondered how any of his story meant anything to Claire. He wasn’t giving any sense of who he was, how he lived. 

Then she asked him how he had lost his family. It was the way that she asked that caused Dean to take note. There was a certain distance between herself and them that came through in the tone. James cleared his throat before answering. “We lived in a small encampment in southern Kansas.”

“You didn’t live in Illinois?” Claire asked.

“No, much of that state is overrun. For some reason, Kansas has remained somewhat intact. Some of the stronger camps have weapons. I thought that if Amelia and I could get inside one of the stronger camps, we might have a shot at keeping you safe. You can’t just hole up in these places though. You have to do your part. I fought with our resistance group, while Amelia stayed behind and cared for our Claire. They had schools in our camps. They taught the kids to fight, and some other useful stuff.”

“So, your Claire was getting battle ready when she was how old?” Claire asked.

“Around eight. She was taught things like reading and such at home. Amelia did what she could. She also worked in the camp mess. She was a better cook than what they had before, so it was an easy fit. She also worked the night watch. In the fall of Claire’s ninth year, I was sent back out to fight. It’s when I first met Cas. He was sent to our group with insider information.”

“So you met Cas in another vessel first?” Claire asked.

“Yes.” He swallowed and continued. “We won the battle; however, when we returned to camp, we learned that we had lost. Part of the group that we’d been fighting splintered off and came back to our encampment. They found our families and tortured and killed them. I found Amelia and my girl in our home. I try to tell myself that it was quick, that they didn’t suffer, but I know that those are lies.”

Claire reached out to him and took his hand. “I understand what that feels like. I’m so sorry.” He moved his other hand over hers. They sat like that for a time.

Dean wondered if they’d see each other as father and daughter. He wondered how long such a shift would take. They didn’t belong to each other. She wasn’t his Claire. He wasn’t her Jimmy. He tried to look like he was reading. If you love someone, is it ever possible to let someone else settle into their place, even if they are very similar? These were the kinds of thoughts that were poking at Dean’s head as he stood there. 

“I’m gonna go get us another room.” Dean pushed off the wall and headed for the door, tossing the random paper back onto the table.

And because Dean’s life was doomed to exist as a series of awkward moments, the Wanderer got up and followed him out the door. Sam shot him a glance, like he was offering assistance, but Dean just shook his head, no. 

They walked side by side down the dark path to the office. They didn’t speak. Dean was aware of the warmth of their arms nearly brushing with each step. The Wanderer opened the door to the office and Dean passed to the inside. The guy at the front desk barely looked up. “Need a room?”

“Yeah, two beds,” Dean said. He pulled out one of the many credit cards and checked the name he’d be going by in this town. He slid it across the counter. 

The guy looked up at him and took the card. He ran it and typed in a few things into the computer in front of him. He passed the card back to Dean and had him sign a paper. “Here ya go.” He slid over a keycard. “You need two?” 

Dean glanced back at the Wanderer and said, “You need one?”

“No. One is plenty.” 

The guy said, “Room 19. It’s at the end.”

Dean took the keycard and walked out the door. The Wanderer followed him. They walked down the row of doors. He passed the room that they had left just moments before. He moved onward to the end of the row. He got to room 19 and opened the door. They went inside. Dean turned, the Wanderer was right on his heels. Dean reached past him and closed the door. He moved closer. The Wanderer moved back against the door. “Dean?”

Dean pressed in even closer. He dropped the keycard on the carpet. He pressed his palms to the door on either side of the Wanderer’s head. He leveled his gaze. The air between them was thick and humid with Dean’s breathing. “Cas?” he husked out the question.

“I,” the Wanderer started. He closed his eyes. “I told you that I have his memories.”

Dean said again, “Cas.” And this time it wasn’t a question. It was pure need that filled that one syllable. The Wanderer opened his eyes. Dean looked into them, and all he could see was Cas. “I need you, Cas. I need you. Come back. Come back to me.” Dean kissed him. His lips pressed firmly to the corner of the Wanderer’s lips. He somehow pressed in closer, his body practically crushing in on the Wanderer. 

He didn’t kiss Dean back. Dean also didn’t stop. He brought one hand to the side of his head and curled his fingers into the wild mess of dark brown hair. Dean pressed his forehead against him. His breathing was coming out in heavy rushes. “Dean.” 

Dean pulled back a little. “Cas?” He stared at him. Moments ticked by and felt like an eternity.  “Just, can you just…” Dean didn’t know what he wanted. Actually he knew what he wanted, but he knew it wasn’t possible. He also knew what he had almost asked for and how wrong it was. It would be so easy to pretend that Cas was here, that he was somehow in the driver’s seat. Dean barely breathed. He just stared at him and waited for time or reason or both to end the moment. He’d imagined an entire world before, a world that had Cas in it. But he was not asking for so much now. He just needed to feel like maybe, maybe it was possible to have one more moment. It didn’t have to be real. It just had to be close.

He felt the tiniest pin prick at the edge of his eye. He fought the emotion. He pushed and pushed it back. The Wanderer reached up to Dean’s cheek. He cradled him there. “I love you.” He delivered the words quietly. They seemed sincere on his lips. He was maybe a more skilled actor than Dean had given him credit for.

Dean still felt the difference though. “You don’t know me. How could you love me?” Dean didn’t know why he was suddenly trying to sabotage the very thing that he had tried to start up, but he was. Perhaps it was just his nature.

The Wanderer kept his gaze on Dean. He didn’t waver. He didn’t look away. Dean wondered if he had broken the spell. Maybe now he might not be willing to speak as Cas. “I know you Dean Winchester. I’ve watched you toil and struggle since Hell was your home and torture was consuming you. I’ve watched you save the world time and again. I’ve watched you love and lose. I’ve watched you Dean, and I have come to love you in all the blasphemous ways an angel mustn't love a human. My feelings for you are not an abomination though. They are a gift. Watching you live has been the only thing in my existence that has brought me true, unwavering joy.”

His heart beat fast in his chest. Dean didn’t know if this was pulled forward from some deep well of memories or not. And if it wasn’t… “Cas?”

His hand fell from Dean’s cheek then. He pushed Dean back. “They will be wondering what has kept us. I do not think that either of us could explain our absence adequately.” He bent down and picked up the keycard. He opened the door and stepped out into the night. He didn’t wait for Dean to follow. He just made his way back to the other room. And like that, Dean felt the emptiness roll back in.

 

* * *

 

Morning came, and Dean had slept through small fragments of the night. Sharing a bed with Sam was never the best option. Sam’s body never seemed content in small spaces. So although Sam would begin his night in a tight ball facing the edge of the bed, the morning would have him spread out into every conceivable space. Dean would try to give him more room, but it always resulted in him worrying over getting pushed off of the bed. 

He gave up at dawn and got dressed. He kept quiet so that Sam and James could get a couple more hours. He looked over at James in the second bed and envied him his space. He slept in a straight line solely on one side of the bed. Dean glanced back at Sam, the starfish now, and considered broaching the subject of taking the second half of James’ bed on night two.

Dean ducked out of the room before he could give it anymore thought. It was odd that he didn’t view James with the same tangle of emotions as he did the Wanderer. He looked like Cas too, but he was nothing like him. His movements and mannerisms, even his tone of voice, were all so different from his Cas. The same could not be said of the other one though. The more time spent in his presence, the more Dean felt the longing for what he couldn’t have anymore.

He shook off the thought and made his way to the Impala. He was going to drive into town and pick up some easy food. It was still a bit too early though. He decided to just take in the skyline or maybe walk around a bit. He leaned back against the trunk of the car and stared out at the vast rusty landscape around him. Everything here was in disrepair and so old as to seem like it was all part of some cowboy western he once saw long ago. If he just turned around a little, he would see downtown El Paso in the distance, complete with its Doubletree Hotel and other fancy establishments. Instead he just focused on what was right there in front of him. His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a door shut behind him. He turned to it.

Claire saw him and came over. “You’re up early.”

Dean smiled at her and said, “Could say the same about you.”

“Are the others awake yet?” she asked.

“Nah, Sam has taken over the whole bed. James is still asleep. Don’t know where the Wanderer went.” Dean tipped his head back a little as he spoke. 

“You don’t call him Cas.” She leaned back against the trunk at his side.

“I can’t.” Dean looked away. “Just like I don’t call the other one Jimmy. He is James. Thankfully, he prefers that.”

“It’s weird. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be feeling about them,” she admitted. 

Dean looked at her. “I know.”

She reached over and took his hand. She leaned her head against his arm. He let go of her hand and gave her a sideways hug that lingered. “I was just getting use to things. I’m glad he’s here. Don’t get me wrong. I just feel…” She tipped her head up to look at him. “I feel like I’m supposed to see him like he’s my dad, but he’s not. They’re different from each other. I can see though how much he needs this. I can feel it when he talks of his world. He’s not telling me everything, but clearly it’s pretty bad there.”

“It is.”

“You’ve seen it?”

Dean swallowed and said, “Yeah. It is some sort of nightmare world. There isn’t one good thing there.”

“And Lucifer dragged your mom over?”

Dean’s head dipped to his chest. “Yeah. I don’t even know where to begin to fix that. Might even be too late. Why would Lucifer keep a Winchester alive if he could just kill her?”

Claire pulled him in and hugged him. “I’ll go with you when this is done. I’ll help you figure this out. You can’t give up.”

“No, Claire. You have a life. People run with us and they wind up dead. I want better than that for you.” Claire stepped back, and Dean reached out and brushed back her hair a little.

“You’re stupid, Dean. I’m coming with you guys.”

“Well, we have to deal with your case first. Not like everyday is chupacabra day for me. Don’t take away my fun.” Dean smiled down at her.

“There is literally nothing fun about this. Have you ever smelled one of those things?” Claire shuddered.

“I have. Looks like you did a pretty good job here.” Dean was genuinely smiling now, facing out toward the horizon. “You conducted the interviews, tracked the creature, figured out how to kill it. I’m impressed.”

She leaned into him again. “I learned from a couple of professionals.”

Dean startled away. “Who?”

She laughed, slugged him in the shoulder, and said, “You and Sam, dummy.” She leaned back into him. “Cas too.”

“He send you emojis on how to kickbox?” Dean laughed, but it had a hint of sadness in it.

“No, we met up. We sparred a bit. He spent a few days going over useful moves. He taught me how to effectively fight with knives. Jody and I did a lot of work on the fighting front. Cas gave me polish.” Dean’s arm came up around her. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to him. I never get to say goodbye.” She sounded like she was crying a little. Dean moved, and pulled her into a full hug.

He pressed a kiss down into her hair. “I know. I know.” He did his best to push aside the feelings that were starting to pool up for him too. He felt the sharpness of the tears that he was holding back, the twist in his gut. It was always there now, that tight knot of longing, the stab of regret. There was so much left to say, to do. He thought there might never be an end to what he was feeling.

They held each other like this for a time. The sun filled the sky. It wasn’t until the quiet crunch of gravel alerted them to another presence that they swiftly parted from each other. “I’m sorry to interrupt.” The Wanderer stood on the other side of the car.

“What the hell?” Dean startled and then moved toward him. “What is that?”

In his arms, the Wanderer held a creature. Its head lolled off to one side, clearly dead. There was thick, drying black blood around its neck. The creature’s eyes were black and cold and saw nothing. The thick line of spikes that ran down its spine seemed to almost press into the Wanderer’s arm. “You did a good job. I found him and finished him. I recall that you said that you thought that visual confirmation was necessary for this kill.” He set the creature down at Claire’s feet like an offering.

“You just went out and hunted it down on your own?” Claire asked.

“I don’t require sleep. We have another mission. If we spend too much time here, we could lose our opportunity to find Jack and the portal that he could make.” The Wanderer seemed to only focus on Claire as he spoke.

“There’s blood on your clothing,” Dean noted. It was not the color of the fluids that had flowed from the creature. 

The Wanderer still did not look at Dean. “There were complications.”

Dean stepped around the creature toward the Wanderer. He tipped his head to force eye contact. “Complications?”

“Yes.”

When he didn’t seem like he’d elaborate, Dean asked, “You need to explain why you have blood on your shirt. And don’t say it came from the creature. It’s human blood.” Dean was just guessing, but he was pretty sure he was right. 

“The chupacabra did not stay on this side of town. It crossed over to the next town.”

“Into Juarez?” Claire asked.

“Yes.” The Wanderer moved so he could give Claire his focus. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to track him over the border with any ease, so I did it. It is easy for me.”

“Still not explaining the human blood,” Dean interrupted.

The Wanderer turned whip fast to face Dean. “The humans here are as cruel as the angels of my world. There were men there, hung from a bridge. I heard a cry. I followed it. I was too late to save them. They hung, necks snapped from the force of being pushed over the side. They had families there, families of the men that hung. They made them watch. I asked a man in the crowd what the dead had done to deserve such a fate. And he told me to be quiet. He told me that the men who did it shouldn’t be questioned.”

“It is a rough city. They’re controlled by a fairly powerful drug cartel,” Claire explained. “You must have witnessed one of their pretty regular killings.”

“Why are we tracking chupacabras when this sort of violence is happening?” He looked angry. Dean reached out to him and set a hand on his arm. The Wanderer glared at him. “I don’t require comfort.” Dean released him.

“There is only so much one can do. We fight supernatural evil not humans. If we added humans to the mix, we’d never stop fighting.” Dean felt the futility of the explanation. He tried again. “Sometimes we do deal with human evil. There just seems to be enough potential apocalypses and such to keep us from going after the worst of the humans on most days.”

The Wanderer seemed to sink in on himself a little. “I annihilated them.”

Dean just stared at him. When he had processed the words enough, he asked, “What do you mean by that?”

He looked at Dean now. “The blood is theirs. I burned away their existence. They won’t be hurting anyone anymore.” 

“Well, shit. You mean like you did the whole smiting thing with the light and such?” The Wanderer nodded. “Just the bad guys right?” He nodded again. “So you left some witnesses?”

“I would never kill innocent people.” He sounded indignant.

“I wasn’t saying you should have. I was just seeing how fast we need to get outta Dodge.” Dean turned to Claire, who was already pulling out her phone. 

“Yeah, there’s a picture of him doing some smiting. They don’t really have a clear shot of his face though. Good thing the smiting light is so bright. I’d say we’ve got less than an hour before someone comes looking around these parts.” Dean moved past her toward the room they’d occupied. He heard Claire and the Wanderer following him to the room. When he opened the door, he saw that Sam was up and getting dressed. James was sitting up in the bed. Claire barged past Dean. “ _ Vamanos _ , people. We got places to be that don’t have dead bodies.”

 

* * *

 

James opted to ride with Claire as they left town. They drove north, back the way they’d come. Sam was already doing research on where Jack might have gone. He put out feelers with a few trusted hunters. He didn’t give up too much information, but he needed more eyes on this. Word came back from a hunter in Colorado. She said that a friend had mentioned healings in a town in Montana, and a guy that glowed golden when he touched you.

“Well, it sounds like as good a lead as we’re gonna get.” Sam passed the laptop back to the Wanderer like he use to do with Cas. “Here, read it and tell me if you think it sounds good.”

The Wanderer took the laptop, almost reluctantly. He read through whatever Sam passed him and said, “It sounds like it’s worth investigating. Any other reports?”

He passed the laptop back to Sam. “Nothing.” Sam went back to searching. “How fast can you get us to Montana?” Sam asked Dean.

“I can do it in 19 hours with some stops,” Dean glanced into the mirror at the Wanderer, waiting for him to offer up his speedier transportation.  _ Don’t offer. _ He caught the hint of acknowledgement in the glance.

“Should we make this a two day trip?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t know. I’m wondering how much distance we need to put between us and the action down south.”

Sam tapped a bit on the laptop. “I’ll check on that as we go, just to see if it gets much coverage.” He turned to the Wanderer then. “Maybe be a little more subtle next time.”

“There won’t likely be a next time. We find Jack and he’s gonna pop off to Thunderdome.” Dean sounded bitter.

“I’ll be more careful in the future,” the Wanderer responded. He caught Dean’s eye again in the mirror.

“Are you really going to go back to that place?” Sam asked.

“It was my intention. There is more need there than here.” He looked away toward the side window and out at all the land sweeping past. It was endless desert, and flat for as far as the eye could see. In the distance there was a lone windmill that sat next to a run down old house. Dean scanned the long stretch of straight highway and tried not to feel.

“There’s a lot to be done here too. We don’t have Cas anymore. We could use more help.” Sam reached over a little and popped Dean’s leg.

“Uh, yeah.” Dean glanced up at the mirror again. “You could help.”

Sam groaned and turned around to face him. “You should consider staying.”

“I think my place is there.” He glanced at Dean in the mirror. He looked back at Sam and said, “It is important that I go where I’m most needed.”

Dean tuned them out, and Sam kept up the conversation, asking questions about that world that Dean didn’t want to hear answered. He thought of what it would be like to watch Cas leaving this time. In his head it was Cas that he’d be losing, because if the Wanderer went through the portal, he’d be taking Cas’ body with him. 

He tried to distract his mind from that end. He tried to think about the mission. He’d likely be going to that world again too. They’d have to if they were ever going to find their mom. The worry was clawing away at his chest. He could feel the longing for any other option pulling at him. Dean watched the road and the land, the endless sweep or grey and brown. 

Dean’s heart was slamming at his chest. The miles rolled by. He wanted to stop. He wanted to get out and run toward nothing. He was breathing, but it was stabbing him harshly and cruelly over and over. A distant hill loomed over the horizon, a change to the endless flat. Miles and time flew by. The car grew quiet with the end of the conversation between Sam and the Wanderer. Later he glanced at Sam, who had fallen asleep with sunlight highlighting his features.

Dean didn’t look into the mirror. If he did, he thought he might lose his last vestige of control. Claire passed him, and James waved as they did so. They were miles away from anything, and didn’t need to follow the Impala. Dean smiled and waved back. It looked like they were leaving the Impala behind. The car became smaller as it gained distance on them. Dean didn’t speed up to catch them. He let them have their win.

Everyone leaves eventually.  _ Stop the pity party. _ He told himself. He felt a hand come up to his shoulder and settle in there. He still didn’t look into the mirror. He knew what he’d see, an all too sympathetic ghost. His heart beat harder. His vision swam in front of him. The world was not his friend.

He didn’t shrug off the hand that anchored him. He pretended it was another time. He pretended it was another Cas giving him the strength he needed to get through. He was use to lying to himself. He was the king of liars, so why not lie now? He let his mind have this small lie as he drove onward.

 

* * *

 

They stopped in a random town after ten hours of driving. They could have gotten fast food and kept on, but James and Claire decided that they were pulling off, and Dean just followed them. The diner was packed with families that seemed to have the same idea. Kids bounced off the vinyl covered seats in the waiting area. Dean took it in from the window outside. 

Claire came back out with James in her wake. “Wait time is short. You all don’t mind right?”

“What’s so special about the place?” Dean asked.

“They do pies. Thought you’d like a break that included that.” Claire gave him a gentle slug on the shoulder. “I got your back Winchester.” And for no reason other than to seemingly blow off some energy after the long car ride. She ducked into a crouch and threw some punches his way. Dean was quick though and dodged them. 

He put up his palms and caught some of the hits. He made like he was gonna sweep her leg, but she jumped back out of the way. “You’ve gotten faster.” 

“Told you I’ve been practicing.” She grinned. Dean caught James looking with a wistful sort of expression. Sam and the Wanderer stood off to the side, seemingly amused.

“Omph.” Dean stumbled back a little. She caught him in the gut. “Coulda pulled the punch a little for an old man.”

“Old man,” she laughed. “I remember a time you might have knocked me on my ass for calling you that, and here you are accepting the title.”

They moved back to the diner. Sam said, “We should probably wait inside so someone doesn’t swoop in and get our table.”

“Yeah, I’ll be out here. Give me a wave when it’s ready,” Dean said. 

Everyone went in, but James lingered. “Mind if I hang back with you for a bit?”

“Nah, figured you might.” Dean nearly laughed at the way he looked surprised. “Thought that maybe after ten hours of trying to talk about shared experiences you might all realize that you didn’t have any. Bet it was…” Dean searched for the right words.

“Awkward,” James supplied.

“Yeah, that’d be it.” Dean pressed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. 

“You have so much history with her. It seems so easy between you two.”

“It is. Hasn’t always been that way though.” Dean glanced up at the diner, and caught Claire’s eye. She smiled at him, and he waved. 

“I don’t feel like she’s telling me how it really was. It’s like she’s holding back.” James glanced back at the diner now too. Claire looked away.

“Sure she is. Have you been completely open, told her about all the shit you went through?”

“Well, no. She shouldn’t have to hear all that.”

“Maybe she feels the same way.” He reached out then and gave James’ shoulder a little squeeze. “Look, in the beginning, she actually tried to kill me.” James looked like he didn’t believe him. “Literally, man. She talked this random couple she met in a bar into attacking me.”

“Clearly it didn’t work out.”

“Not even a little.” Dean laughed. “The point is, though, that it takes some time to really know a person. Doesn’t matter that you look like her dad or that she looks like your daughter. You’re different people. You gotta build from scratch.”

“So you’re saying that I’m rushing things.” James grinned as he said it, and something about the way he looked cut Dean a little. The gummy smile was so much like Cas’.

“Yeah, man. It’s been literally less than a week that you’ve even been in this world. Give it time.” 

James nodded and said, “I think I’ll head in then. Can’t make up for lost time without being present.”

“Just be patient. It’ll be better in time.”

He started to walk away then he turned back. “Are you doing okay?”

“No, but talking about it won’t do a damn thing.” Dean waved him off and added. “I’ll be in in a bit. Just gonna stretch my legs.” James accepted that and headed inside. It looked like they were being lead to a seat. Dean thought he should go in now too, but he just didn’t want to be around anyone for a few minutes. He rounded the corner of the restaurant. There was a back door propped open and a waitress was standing beside it smoking.

She raised an eyebrow at Dean as he stood there. “You ain’t gonna report me for smoking here are ya?” Her voice came out with a bit of a twang that didn’t quite match her appearance. She was tall with sweeping dark brown hair cascading down her back. She was attractive. Dean thought,  _ Well, I certainly have a type. _

“No, just trying to avoid going in before I have to.” He took a spot next to her and leaned against the wall. “Got a spare one?” He hadn’t smoked in years. He thought it was a nasty habit, but somehow he wanted the feel of the smoke burning through him.

She pulled out her pack and tapped out a cigarette for him. He took it and put it to his lips. She pulled out a lighter and he leaned into it. He was glad he didn’t cough through it. She watched him. “Where you from?”

“Nowhere in particular. Kansas kinda.” He took another pull and took the cigarette from his lips on an exhale.

“Sounds like half the people I meet.” She smiled at him, and it was warm and encouraging. “You gonna stay in town for the night or are ya heading on?”

“Heading on.” He brought the cigarette to his lips again and took a deep pull. He let his head tip back against the rough brick wall, felt it dig in just a little.

She hummed a bit and said, “Too bad.” 

Dean smiled past the smoke and did his best to look only slightly interested.  _ They might want to stay the night. _ A distraction might be just what he needed. He tapped some ash off and took another drag. “We’ve got another nine hours to go, but I’m not sure if anyone from my caravan wants to do all of it in one go.” He glanced out past her toward the town and the little motel that was just up the road a bit. “The motel over there passable?”

Her lip rolled up a bit. She crushed out the last of her cigarette and moved closer to him. She pulled a pen out of her apron pocket. “Gimme your hand, sugar.” Dean held out his hand. She wrote her number on his palm and a name, Farrah. Dean raised a brow at the name. “Don’t say a damn word about the name. Mom and dad had a deep Farrah Fawcett love and had to stick me with the moniker.”

“Kinda a fan myself.” He grinned at her. She kept his hand a little longer.

“Yeah, well, I can quote chapter and verse of any  _ Charlie’s Angels _ episode, so there’s that.” She let his hand go then. “Well, gotta head back in. Hope you decide to linger.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.” Dean turned to go.

“Hey, you got a name?”

“Dean.” 

“Nice name. Like James Dean.” She left him with that. 

Dean decided to finish off the cigarette. He could hear the low rumble of the many conversations coming from inside. He tried to sift through them for the familiar voices of his people. It was impossible to make any one voice out. He dropped the butt end of the cigarette into the little coffee can ashtray near the door, and rounded the corner back to the restaurant.

He noticed the group inside at their corner table. He made his way in and to the table. Claire moved over and he slid in next to her. 

“Took ya long enough,” she said.

“I ordered you a cheeseburger and a salad,” Sam said.

“A salad?” Dean scowled.

“Yeah, you get a salad when you take a long ass time coming to the table.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Fine, mom.” The food showed up even as he spoke. “Now that’s what I call good timing.” The burger that slid in front of him looked good even if it had a giant salad next to it. He glanced over at Claire’s plate and saw the french fries framing the burger. He swapped their plates. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Claire re-swapped the plates. “You get the healthy salad.”

“You are young and in need of protein,” Dean tried again.

“That salad is not gonna give me protein.” She popped a fry in her mouth. “Eat your salad old man.”

Dean dug into his burger. He was making a noble effort toward not looking at the Wanderer.

James was eating pancakes. “I haven’t had pancakes in years.”

Dean looked up then and caught the Wanderer’s eye. Dean said, “That seems like a shame.” Dean reached over and stole a fry from Claire’s plate.

“Thief.” She half-heartedly slapped his hand away.

“How far are we gonna go today?” Dean asked as he stabbed at his salad.

“Thought we were going all the way to Montana?” the Wanderer said.

“Didn’t want to assume. Thought maybe some people might need a break.” Dean took a bite.

“I’m good,” James said.

Sam echoed him. He glanced from Dean to the others. “Looks like we’re gonna keep on keepin’ on then.”

The Wanderer said, “I don’t require sleep.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, forgive me for being considerate.”

The Wanderer leveled a gaze at him. “I also do not require sexual relations with the waitress.”

Everyone suddenly looked awkward. Sam cleared his throat. “Well, that's a new definition of considerate.”

Dean took another fry from Claire’s plate and threw it at Sam. “Asshole.”

“Explains why you smell like an ashtray,” Claire said, elbowing him.

“I maybe made bad life choices.” He looked at Claire and added, “Just say no.”

“That’s drugs lame-o,” Claire said.

“Same thing,” Dean mumbled.

“Well, maybe we can find something to hunt here so Dean can get some action,” Claire offered.

“No, no, no, no,” Dean said. “We are so not having this conversation, and I do not need to stay the night here.”

Sam laughed and said, “Maybe we can find a rogue vamp.”

Dean said, “How about a rogue clown?”

“Jerk.” Sam casually drank the last of his diet Coke.

“You guys have vampires?” The Wanderer looked at James like he was confused.

“You guys don’t?” Sam asked.

“They haven’t been a problem for awhile,” James answered.

The Wanderer looked at Dean and asked, “So it is a problem here?”

“Not really. I mean, I was a vampire once, and managed to survive.” He smirked. It was easier making a joke, even if it was steeped in truth.

Claire chimed in, “Me too, kinda. Well, actually a werewolf, but they both have fangs so…”

Both James and the Wanderer looked shocked. “This is unsettling, unless you are lying. Are you lying?” the Wanderer asked.

Sam answered for him, “So true, but they're both clearly all cured now.”

The Wanderer closed his eyes then and seemed to be searching for something. “I have no memories of this?”

“He wasn’t there for the vamp phase.” Dean said. The waitress, Farrah, chose that moment to pass and toss him a wink.

“That’s your potential hook-up?” Claire asked.

“She is aesthetically pleasing,” the Wanderer said.

Dean started elbowing his way out of the booth. “I’m going to the car. If you all wanna wrap this up, we’ve got a ton of miles to eat up.” He heard them laugh at him as he snaked his way out of the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

A rainstorm was brewing. A bit of thunder shook through the sky. Dean felt weary. The long day of driving was tearing at his defenses. He knew he could let Sam drive. He just didn't want to give up the distraction.

Beside that Sam was tired too. He even decided to switch places with the Wanderer so he could catch a nap in the back seat. Now Dean was mentally falling apart over the new arrangement.

“I could ride with Claire and James.” It had been close to a hundred miles of silence. Well, almost silence. Sam was snoring a little by the time the Wanderer had chosen to speak.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” Dean's tone was a touch on the rude side.

“I make you uncomfortable,” the Wanderer replied.

It was true, but Dean didn't want to admit it. “Well that's one thing the two of you have in common—running away.”

The rain began falling in large glops. Claire was in the lead again. He could see her taillights on the horizon. He had to slow down and kick up the wipers to full speed.

The Wanderer reached out to him, but Dean shrugged him off. “Dean.”

“Stop, just stop trying to be him.” Dean didn't look at him. He maybe knew that he was now the king of mixed signals. The night before Dean had practically begged him to pretend. 

This was a fact that the Wanderer apparently wanted Dean to acknowledge. “I have his memories, and I still don't understand how communicating with you did not drive him absolutely mad. I've been in your presence for less than a week and already I find you more frustrating than any human I've ever encountered, and I've occupied two worlds and lived for over a millennia.”

The rain was coming down hard now. He slowed to just under twenty miles per hour. “Well lucky for you, you won't be staying around much longer, dealing with me.”  The exhaustion was really getting to him, otherwise he might have quit there. Dean pulled over. “Have you ever, ever loved anything?” 

He didn't answer right away. “I told you that I…”

Dean interrupted, “I'm talking about you, not him.”

He tipped his head to the side in that way that was so Cas, and Dean felt everything that he'd been pushing down rush over the surface. He shut off the car and got out. It wasn't the smartest move. It was pouring down rain. He was drenched in seconds.

There was a small hill just off the road. He ran to it, just to give his body something to do that wasn't just crying in the rain. “You asshole!” He yelled at the sky. “You goddamn son of a bitch! I had things I needed to say to you! We had so fucking much left to do!” He was shivering now. Thunder rumbled through the sky, and he knew he needed to head back to the car. He sucked in a breath and sobbed out, “He's not you, but goddamn it I want him to be. I can't do this without you.”

“Dean.” Dean turned to face him. The Wanderer stood right behind him. “You need to come back to the car. Lightning is coming.”

“Let it.” Dean's shaking had to be obvious. 

“If you don't come back to the car, Sam will come out here next. Do you want him doing that?”

“I don't care.” Dean cared.

The Wanderer moved closer. “I said I loved you before, and I meant it. I know I'm not him, but I've seen you through his eyes for years. I felt what he felt.”

Dean didn't know what to do. He stood in the cold and the rain wishing for a way to follow Cas clear of this world. But here was this Cas, this other angel that somehow had the great misfortune of falling in love with him too.

Dean looked up to the sky. When he'd found a way to breathe right again. He followed the Wanderer back to the car. Sam had already moved to the driver's seat. The Wanderer opened the door to the back seat and slid in next to Dean. He pulled Dean to his side where it was warm. They drove onward through the storm.

 

* * *

 

They came to Bozeman in the dark of night. The sky sparked with flashes of lightning every couple of minutes. Dean missed most of it though. He slept in the crook of the Wanderer's arm. Guilt could plague him in the morning. 

James drove the last leg while Claire slept. Sam took the lead and drove to their usual type of run down motel and got them two rooms. Dean was awake for the end of the drive, but feigned sleep.

He got out of the car and stumbled toward the room that Sam was opening up. Claire took his arm. “You can take the spare in my room. Just don't snore.” He was too tired to argue, so he followed her in. 

Dean glanced back at his car and saw the Wanderer standing at the Impala’s side. He didn't seem like he would follow them in for the night. He leaned against the passenger side door and stared back at Dean.

Dean turned back to Claire and followed her in.

 

* * *

 

A week passed, then two. They went out in pairs and questioned the locals. Their answers were all the same. “It was a miracle.” Sometimes they said things like, “God sent us an angel.” Or most telling, “There was a golden light, the light of God.” They talked of healing too, but whenever they asked where they might find this angel, no one had anything to say.

The Wanderer did not go with any of them when they questioned the locals. He seemed to have his own agenda. He roamed the town and the hills surrounding it. He looked to the sky as if praying for a sign. Dean knew all of this, because he watched him now. He watched him like he was all there was. He wondered on most days if it would be the day he'd watch him disappear.

Today Dean and Sam split off to go to a small farmhouse eleven miles outside of town. Claire said she’d start looking for other miracles, talk to some other people that she hadn’t hit up yet. James, as always, said he’d go where she went. And the Wanderer, wandered, Dean reckoned.

As the weeks passed in Bozeman, Dean fell into patterns. He’d wake up before the others and get breakfast. He’d walk at night around the motel, stopping from time to time to pick up small rocks to hurl at the horizon. And every night, just before he returned to the motel to sleep, he’d find a spot far from everyone and everything, and he’d pray. In the first nights he’d just walk, telling himself he needed to wind down from the day, get his head in a better place before bed. Later though, he knew he was looking for something more. 

There was a river that he could walk to, not far from the motel. It was more relaxing to walk there than to go into town. He’d walk along and listen to the gentle noises of the water running over the rocks. He found a spot in those early days where the river curved around a sandy bank. A fallen tree framed the end of the bank. Dean sat there and took off his shoes, curling his toes in the sand. It was usually still warm when he got there. 

He remembered the river in Cora, the golden glow of it. He remembered the gentle sound of it, and all the promise of that place. He could have Cas there if he just accepted it. Mo would come to him, make it all good again. And yet, Dean couldn’t let that be his. Some nights out there, he’d close his eyes and live in the memories. All of the nights ended the same. He’d pray, not to Mo, not to God, to Cas.

And though he knew that Cas was gone, he just couldn’t let go of the one habit that had gotten him through so many years. “Hey Asshole,” Dean didn’t change his delivery from before. Didn’t matter that Cas was dead and might have asked for a little respect. Dean figured he earned the poor treatment for dying on him. “Another day, another failed attempt at finding your nephilim. Guess you’re too busy to come back and help out with that.” Dean laughed a little. “Been wondering what happens with stupid angels that go off and die. Feel free to let me know so I can come pick you up, plop your dumb ass back in the world.”

The prayers went on like this most nights, Dean just riding Cas for dying with a sprinkling of news about the day. Somehow he took comfort from it. Some nights the prayers were more fervent, more laced with his despair.

“Seems everyone has gotten their miracles.” It was nearing the three-week mark in Bozeman. Dean had hauled a six-pack of El Sol onto the trail with him. “James and Claire talk to each other like they matter to each other. Sam and...him,” he almost said Cas, “They act like old friends.” Dean worked his way through the third bottle. “He calls him Cas. I don’t. He’s not you. I watch him though. I watch him, you asshole, because it’s as close as I’ll get to watching you.”

He hadn’t eaten anything that evening, and he was feeling the beer more than he normally would. He knew this would lead to morning regrets. He didn’t care. “Maybe I’ll get a fucking miracle if I just pass out here. Maybe the stupid child will show up and give me God’s miracle light of healing.” Dean’s voice turned bitter. He drank down the last of what was in his bottle and hurled it across the river. It shattered on the far rocks.

Dean popped the cap off of the next bottle. “Who am I kidding. Can’t fix this.” He waved his hands around signifying all of him. He tipped his head back and looked off at the giant sky full of stars that were so beautiful. “In Cora, I made us all forget this world so I wouldn’t lose you. Then I made you into some hunky hardware store clerk, so you wouldn’t have to heed the call back to heaven. Keeping you took everything in me, and it still wasn’t enough. I lost you a hundred times or maybe more. I lost track. Now it’s just this.”

He took a swig from the bottle and stared off at the water. “We’re no closer to finding a way to my mom. I’m irritating everyone or worrying them, because I’m not focused. Sam keeps trying to talk to me about it all. The Wanderer keeps trying to avoid me. He’s going back to his world, taking your body with him. I’ll have none of you then.” 

The beer wasn’t the only thing he’d carried out to the river that evening. Dean had a bag that the remaining El Sol’s were in, and under them was the coat. He pulled it out now and held it to his chest. He remembered another river and another coat and another time of loss. He watched the water. The little ripples of it caught the moonlight. “He’ll hate me soon enough too. He barely looks at me now. He came back to the motel, just to say that he hadn’t found Jack yet.” 

Dean got up then and walked closer to the water. “I love you,” he whispered out to the night. He made sure to end all of his prayers that way. He didn’t say it enough in life, so he figured he’d make up for lost time. He raised his eyes to the sky again and all of its stars. He was ready to head back, curl up in bed and sleep like death had claimed him. 

Dean turned his gaze back to the trail and took one step. Something flashed out of the corner of his eye. He turned back to the water. It reflected something golden. He looked to the land beyond it. Far from him, high on a hill, was the source of the rich, golden light. His stomach tightened. He felt his pulse kick up. “Cas, I think I found him.” 

Dean had to run. There was no easy means of crossing over the river from where he was. He ran clear back to the motel, trying to keep the location of the light in his head even when he wasn’t facing it. The Wanderer popped into his path. “Where?”

“Where what?” Dean came to a halt. 

“Where is he?”

Dean grabbed him, “Why? So you you can leave us?”

He glared at Dean, “No, so I can get you to him and save your mother.”

Dean let that sink in for a second, then pointed him toward the hill. “Take me there.”

He reached out to Dean and together they snapped away to the hill. Dean felt the usual disorientation from flying like that. It had been a long time since Cas had been able to do that, but the feeling lingered in memories. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. I just saw the bottom of the hill glowing. It was the same golden color the locals described.” The Wanderer moved in front of him and seemed to be scanning the hillside. “How’d you know I’d seen something?”

“You prayed.” His answer came quickly as he looked off into the distance. “Maybe down at the base.” He reached back and took Dean’s hand, pulling him along in his wake. It didn’t seem to occur to him that this was perhaps unusual.

“You can hear my prayers?” Dean asked as he was pulled along.

“Yes, I hear all prayers that are directed at me, but no one else prays to me here.” They stopped and stood at the edge of a driveway that seemed to come out of nowhere. 

“Maybe someone lives up there, someone in need of a miracle,” Dean suggested. They turned and walked up the long driveway. Dean added, “I was praying to Cas.”

“Dean, now is not the time for this discussion.” He stopped in the middle of the driveway and scanned the land around them again. In the distance was a rather large ranch house. “We can talk about your grave misconceptions concerning my feelings for you. We can talk about every last bit of how utterly ridiculous your line of thinking is, but for now, we are doing this. We are finding a path to your mother, bringing her back from that other world, and figuring out if you’re capable of accepting my presence in your world for a sizable amount of time.”

The Wanderer began moving toward the house again, and Dean followed. He sifted through the order of events that were laid out for him. He got stuck on the last one. “You think you might stay?”

He turned to Dean, irritation painted over his features. “That will be up to you. Now be quiet.” 

There was a barn behind the house. Somehow Dean knew that this was where they were to go. He took the Wanderer’s hand and pulled him to it. “This way.” The tall barn doors loomed up high. Dean pushed it open. The creaking hinges were too loud, but it turned out that they didn’t need quiet.

“Hello, Castiel.” The boy in the middle of the barn smiled at them. He stood still in the midst of burned hay, a child lay at his feet.

“Is she okay?” The Wanderer asked.

“She is. She’s sleeping. She had a nasty fall from up there.” He pointed up to the hayloft. “I fixed her.” He walked past them to the outside. They followed him. 

Dean reached out to him, but the Wanderer kept him from making contact with a restraining hand. “We need your help,” Dean managed to ask.

“I’m aware. I have been watching you since you arrived in town.” He stopped and turned to Dean. “You have suffered much.” He paused then added, “Needlessly.” 

“What do you mean needlessly?” Dean nearly spat out the question.

“You cry over the loss of one that is standing before you. You worry over your mother when you know that she is strong and capable on her own. I am at a loss for why you seem so distraught.” Jack stood with his head tipped back, and seemed to glow a little. He pointed at nothing, but a thin golden line formed in the air where his finger was. 

“Will that lead to my mother?” 

Jack just smiled. Dean started to reach for the light. The Wanderer held him back. “Let me go get her.”

Dean tried to move around him. “She’s my mother. I’m going to bring her back.”

“It’s my world. Let me deal with its dangers.” The Wanderer looked like he was going to move forward toward the portal. 

Dean grabbed him. “Please don’t.” He stopped moving toward the portal. Dean remembered the last time they stood before the portal. He remembered the flash of light and the loss that came from the last moments that it was open. Dean continued, “I’ve already lost you once. I don’t want to have it happen again.” The Wanderer looked at him. His lip curled up a little into a half grin. 

“I’ll come back to you.” Before he could move to the portal though, a small miracle happened. Mary fell through into their world, and Jack touched the light of the portal and seemed to draw it back into himself.

 

* * *

 

There in the middle of nowhere, miles from even the motel that they’d called home for nearly a month, Dean felt the full weight of his very own miracle. None of them moved at first. They each just stared at each other like they each doubted that any of what just happened was real. Well, Jack didn’t quite look like that. If Dean had to describe Jack’s reaction to it all, he might say that he seemed bored.

Mary finally stood up and moved toward Dean. As she drew closer, Dean said, “Mom?”

“Dean.” And hearing her voice moved him to action. He pulled her into a hug, and worried that he might not let her go. A small part of his head was questioning whether or not she was his Mary, his mom. After all, the universe seemed to think it was sufficient to give everyone a doppelganger replacement and call it good enough.

Dean released her just a little and looked closely at her. “You’re my mom, right, not some other Mary?” He hoped the question made sense. 

“Yes, Dean.” She didn’t elaborate, and Dean didn’t think he needed it. She looked at Jack then and turning back to Dean asked, “How did you know where to put the portal? We’d moved so many miles from where the first opening was.”

Jack seemed to consider the question and answered, “I can feel where my father is in that world. I opened the portal near where he was. Seemed likely that you would be near him.”

Dean asked, “So you didn’t know that she would come through?”

“No.” 

When Jack seemed like he wouldn’t elaborate, Dean added, “So, Lucifer could have come through instead?”

“Yes, that was a possibility. In fact it seemed much more likely that he’d come through than a human that he was keeping prisoner.” Jack moved down the hill, and they followed him.

Dean got in front of him and blocked his path. “You were okay with that, with Lucifer showing up here?”

“Yes.” Jack moved around him. He addressed Dean’s question as they moved. “You wanted your mother back. This was a risk that I thought you would take.”

Mary spoke next. “You are Kelly's child?”

Jack stopped now and turned to her. “Thank you for being with my mother in the end. I wanted to save her, but I couldn't.”

She set a hand on his cheek, a maternal move. “She would understand.”

The moment ended. They walked on. Dean felt his head filling with more questions. Mary pressed in close to his side. “Is Sam okay?”

“Yes. He's at the motel, probably sleeping.” 

Mary looked past him just a little toward the Wanderer. “Last I saw, Cas was dead.”

Dean followed her gaze and thought about what Jack had said. He glanced at the Wanderer and said, “Yeah, he makes a habit of dying, but he’s one of us. We always find a way back.”

 

* * *

 

Dean and Mary went into the motel room and woke up Sam. It was a good reunion. The Wanderer stayed outside with Jack. Dean wondered about the intense conversation that they seemed to be having just out of earshot.

He still had a million questions. As the night turned slowly to day, he found himself standing at the window, looking out at the early grey horizon. Mary and Sam had gone out to pick up food. Claire offered to drive them. James came to Dean’s side. “You could always go out there, join ‘em.”

“They seem to have a lot to discuss.” Dean leaned into the window frame a little. Sometimes it looked like the Wanderer and Jack were just staring off into the distance. Other times it seemed like they were having a conversation. 

“He doesn’t want to return to our world,” James said.

“He said something like that the other night. I’m not sure what changed. We haven’t had a chance to talk since he mentioned it.” Dean gave James his focus now.

“Nothing’s changed for him. I think he just suddenly felt like someone might want him around is all.” James glanced back out the window. He added, “He told you of his feelings.”

Dean felt strange having this conversation with James. He was nothing like Cas, or the Wanderer for that matter, but it was still a little too close and felt like confession. Still he replied, “He tell you that?”

James smiled. “Yeah. He and I talk. We’re friends. It’s not like it was for Cas and Jimmy.” He tipped his head back against the window frame and closed his eyes like he was digging up a memory.

“Jimmy said it was like being tied to a comet,” Dean offered.

James laughed. “I could imagine. My Castiel learned a lot from their experience. He did not suppress me. We discussed battle plans, decisions that might be risky, and we made choices together. It wasn’t like that for your Cas. He suppressed Jimmy and made all the calls. Of course, your Jimmy was rather different from me, so maybe it wasn’t the worst thing having Cas in the driver’s seat.”

“Not sure Jimmy would agree on that note. Not even sure Cas would agree now.” Dean stopped talking abruptly. He realized that he had spoken of Cas as if he was still there. He looked out at the Wanderer. “He said he loves me. I don’t think that’s possible. He doesn’t even know me.”

James laughed again. “Yeah, it’s more than possible. It’s a fact.”

Dean’s voice kicked up an octave and sounded this side of surprised when he said, “How?”

James reached out and gave Dean’s shoulder a squeeze. “What we learned of you came to us almost like a series of dreams at first. Later it was like our memories just doubled.”

“I know. He said that you both saw what Cas saw, felt what Cas felt,” Dean said.

“Somewhat.”

Dean looked at him a little puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Cas wasn’t big on the suppression, but he did shield me from some of the memories. He said it would be too much for my humanity to contain all of what two angels knew. Even then he intended to give me back my autonomy and didn’t want me to have to carry too much back into my humanity.”

“So you didn’t feel all of what Cas felt?” Dean glanced back out the window at Jack and the Wanderer.

“That wasn’t what he shielded me from. I felt what he felt, but it was different. I felt his love and affection for you as one that is outside of it. I appreciated it, but it did not become my own love or affection. I admire you for who you are. I have a growing desire, perhaps to even be more like you.”

“Well, that’s just crazy!” Dean laughed.

“You have been kind to Claire, and you have a relationship with her that I envy. However, my admiration for you is not comparable to what Castiel feels. He is in love with you.”

“It doesn’t make sense for him to feel anything for me.” Dean shook his head a little and looked away from all of it. The kitchenette was a mess. The beds were unmade. 

James sighed and pressed his hand to Dean’s chest. Dean turned his gaze back to him. “You love him too, and that doesn’t make sense.”

“I love Cas. He’s not him. He just looks like him. You look like him too. I’m not in love with you.” James’ hand sat warm over Dean’s heart.

James smiled, a sad sort of smile. “And that should tell you something. You know you aren’t in love with me, never even remotely felt a thing where I’m concerned. I look like him, maybe even sound like him from time to time, yet you feel none of that connection. Isn’t that odd?”

“Odd?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, odd.” James let his hand fall back to his side. “I see how you look at him. It’s the same way you looked at your Cas. He fell in love with you even before he came here. Trust me. I know. I had a ringside seat. I imagine that being in that body has only served to amplify those feelings.”

“He’s not Cas though.” The words sounded feeble, coming from Dean’s mouth.

James said, “And yet he is.” He breathed out on a sigh and added, “It seems that in any universe, in any time or space, Castiel is in love with you and can’t seem to do a damn thing about it. Now, it’s just my opinion, but that makes me think that maybe it might be the same for you.”

“I won’t betray him. It would be a betrayal to just say, ‘oh well, just gonna move those feelings on over.”

James’ head dipped down to his chest. “Am I betraying my Claire by wanting to have a connection with your Claire?”

“That’s different,” Dean said.

“Is it?” They both turned to the window again, and Dean noticed how Jack pointed now at the space in front of the Wanderer. He opened a portal. 

“What the hell!” Dean rushed out of the room toward them. “What are you doing?” he shouted. 

The Wanderer turned to him. “Jack has offered to open the portal for my return.”

“You said you’d stay!” Dean shouted.

The Wanderer moved close to him. He reached out and rested both hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I heard what you said to James. I shouldn’t have been listening, but I seem to be more prone to rule breaking than your Castiel.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dean offered.

“I’ll never be him. I’ll always just be this Castiel that came along and took his body from you.”

Dean felt the pounding of his heart, the tightening of the knot in his stomach. He couldn’t watch him go. He couldn’t lose him again. “Maybe, Cas, maybe you’re more than that though.”

The Wanderer looked surprised for a moment. “You called me Cas.” His hands dropped back to his sides.

Dean reached up to him, cupped his face in his hands. “I know. Don’t go.” Dean leaned in then and kissed him. It was stiff and awkward. Dean slid his hands back into the Wanderer’s hair. Dean held him there and hoped that somehow he’d want this too, that he’d kiss him back and just hold on. And another moment passed, but Dean didn’t let him go. Dean felt his lips part just a little. He pulled away from Dean and looked at him. Dean said, “I love you, Cas, every version of you in every universe. I love you.”

He stared at Dean a moment longer and said, “I won’t leave you.” He glanced over at Jack, who touched the portal, and drew it back into himself. Then Jack walked back toward the motel and James. James let him in. The Wanderer moved his hands around Dean’s waist to his back. He held him and looked into his eyes. “I will never leave you again.”

Dean felt his lips rolling up into a smile. They leaned into each other again, and this time when they kissed it was different. Dean felt the knot in his stomach loosen. They deepened the kiss. The Wanderer opened his mouth to Dean, and Dean chased the taste of him. Dean felt the pull toward him grow stronger with each moment that they pressed closer to each other. He didn’t let him go. Dean’s thoughts shifted and he knew something unusual was happening. There was warmth and a golden glow of light that pierced past his closed eyes. He felt it in his lips passing into Cas with the kiss.  _ Cas,  _ he thought.  _ You are my Cas. _

And with that thought, Dean felt Cas’ arms tighten around him. Until some force shot them apart. Dean landed on his back. He scrambled to his feet and saw Cas lying on the ground. He crawled toward Cas who was glowing. “Cas!” Dean got his hands on him. “Cas!”

Cas opened his eyes. He stared up at Dean, his body still bright and golden. “Dean.” And something in his tone was so familiar, so right. Dean let him sit up. He didn’t take his hands off of him though. Some small part of him felt like he’d lose him if he did. 

“Are you okay?” He looked him over and added, “You’re glowing.”

“That’ll pass.” Dean helped him get up. Cas looked around. “We’re in Montana.”

Dean felt some measure of confusion at the statement. “Yes, have been for nearly a month.”

The glowing faded. Cas laughed and said, “Oh, that we have.” He laughed again and it was somehow warm enough to curb Dean’s fears. 

Dean curled his fingers into Cas’ hand and asked again, “Are you okay?”

Cas looked around him, then just at Dean. “Yes.” He tipped his head back and laughed again. “He and I are just working out how we’re going to be sharing this space.”

“Cas, buddy, catch me up. I’m missing something here.” Dean was feeling nervous. Change was rarely good to them, and this moment was feeling charged with change.

Apparently everything was funny to Cas now. He laughed again, a great big belly laugh, and scooped Dean up off the ground into a tight chest crushing hug. He kissed him then quick and full of joy. He set him back down and said, “You held onto me. All the healing I gave to you, our bond, all of it well, it was all just bits and pieces of me. Normally, over time, my grace would fade away from the bodies that it passed through. You are just different though, Dean. You held onto me and gave me back to this body, apparently when you were good and ready.”

“Still not following,” Dean said. He was still pressed to Cas’ chest, still clinging to him, hoping that this wasn’t going to be the beginnings of bad news. Because when did anything good ever last for them?

“Dean?” Cas’ tone shifted. “Close your eyes.” Dean did as he was told. “I love you.” Dean opened his eyes and knew. Cas said it again, “I love you.” The familiar timber of it, the way the words carved a place in him, told him everything he needed to know.

“Cas,” Dean choked out. And he didn’t understand, didn’t even begin to get any of it, but this was his Cas. This was HIS Cas. He pulled him somehow closer and buried his face in Cas’ chest. It was him, and he was here. Dean shook and sobbed into his chest. “You…” There was no finishing the thought. He just held onto him and wept into him. 

“It’s okay now,” Cas’ voice rumbled. Dean didn’t let go, didn’t look up to see his face as he spoke. “We’re here. We won’t leave you.” There was another laugh, and Cas added, “Death is overrated.”

Dean looked up at him when he said that, and he had so many questions. There would be time for that though. He could feel the time now in a way that was hopeful. He stared into the endless blue of Cas’ eyes and breathed, just breathed. It felt good again to be alive.


	4. The Dawn of Their Return

> “O, what an untold world there is in one human heart!” Harriet Beecher Stowe  _ Uncle Tom’s Cabin _

 

 

Sometimes when he slept, Dean still worried that he’d wake up and find that he was still dreaming. Sometimes he found himself looking for small hints that none of the good in his life was real. It had been months though since Bozeman and getting Cas and Mary back. It had been many  _ good  _ months. Sam told him once to try, just try to believe that good things could happen for them. It reminded Dean of Cas long ago when they first met. He didn’t accept it then, and now he could only try his best. The first days were easy. He had wanted so much for it to all be real and for Cas to be alive, that nothing about those first moments could be tinged with doubt. Time passed and his thoughts altered.

Some days were easier than others. He’d lie in bed late on the easy days, eyes closed against the sunlight that was trying to wake him. He’d feel it warm on his face as it came in past the curtains. He’d slowly crack open his eyes and see the mop of dark brown hair just inches from his face. On those good mornings he’d press in slow to the back of him and breathe the heat of him into his lungs.  _ This was love. _ He had to remind himself that it was real, but on those good days his mind was quick to accept it. 

Some days were tough. He’d wake up and see Cas lying next to him, eyes closed like he was dead. Dean would pull him close and try not to cry or worse, leap from the bed, placing distance between them. Cas seemed to understand. He told Cas of the time spent in Cora, of Mo and all the rest. Cas tried, on those days, to understand him, to give him the peace he needed to get through. He’d tell Dean secrets, quiet stories that came from pasts that they didn’t share. Dean took comfort from the quiet timber of his voice. He listened to the stories and tried to tell himself that they were proof of life.  _ This isn’t Cora. Cas is alive. _ .

It wasn’t proof though. Most days Dean let himself cling to all of it as if it were reality, because maybe it was. He put some effort into the world around him. There was Jack to contend with and helping Jody add onto the house that was taking in more hunters than any of them ever planned for.

Some days he’d dive into car repairs just to give his mind a break. His hands and arms smudged in grease, a fine sheen of sweat coating his back, and he could almost forget to worry. Jack appeared at his side without making a sound during one of these days. “Shit!” Dean said as he jumped back. “Warn a guy.”

“I’m sorry.” He stood awkwardly off to the side. For all of his fine words and desire to heal things, Jack was a bit of a blank slate. He didn’t say more than was required; although, he had an excellent vocabulary. Cas reasoned that he probably absorbed some knowledge from Kelly before he was born.

“What are you doing?” Dean tried not to sound short tempered. He just wasn’t quite comfortable with him yet, despite the months together. Sam seemed to have adopted the more paternal role where Jack was concerned.

“I wanted to see what you were doing. Sam said that you were escaping.”

“Escaping?” Dean asked as he picked up a rag to wipe off his hands. “What’s that supposed to mean?

Jack looked off at the empty street that ran in front of Jody’s house and then back at Dean before he answered. “He said that you work on your car to escape.”

“I work on my car, because I like working on my car. It also helps me think.” Dean set aside the rag and considered whether or not he’d continue tinkering. He did need to change out the tires. They’d put a ton of miles on the current set and although they could go a bit longer, he didn’t want to get stuck a thousand miles out on bald tires.

“I do not require car repair to think,” Jack offered up needlessly.

Dean laughed a little and shut the hood. He stepped into the garage and got out the jack. He set it under the car and started to raise her up. “Maybe you might think differently if you worked on a car. Pretty sure you never had the opportunity.”

“I have never repaired a car.” Jack stood at his side watching Dean.

“Well, no better time than the present.” Dean waved into the garage. “Go get the tires I have stacked in the corner. I’ll show you how to change out the tires.” Jack stalked off into the garage and bent down, picking up the four tires at once. “No, just bring out one at a time. Roll it.” Dean glanced around thinking about how odd it would look if someone saw this kid carrying four tires like they weighed nothing.

Jack rolled the first tire to his side and said, “It is a waste of effort to bring them out this way.”

“You want to explain your super strength to strangers, then by all means Hulk, go grab the rest all at once.” Thankfully, Jack didn’t do that. He retrieved the tires one at a time, setting down the last tire next to Dean. Jack tipped his head to the side, like Cas sometimes did, and watched Dean work.. Dean set the crowbar in place and loosened the first of the lug nuts. He gave the bar a spin and pulled off the first nut. “Wanna try it?”

Jack nodded and took the crowbar from Dean. He set it on the second nut. He gave it a spin. He was strong and it spun easily. “What should I think about while I do this?”

“Whatever has been bothering you,” Dean offered.

Jack seemed to think about that for a moment. “Nothing is bothering me.”

“Well, lucky you then.”

Jack looked at him and said, “Maybe I can think about what is bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” Dean said.

“Well, lucky you then,” Jack said in his best impression of Dean.

Jack moved onto the next nut and then the next. Dean pulled the tire off the car and set it aside. Back at the bunker, he had a whole shop at his disposal. He could swap out rims onto new tires with ease. Here he had a whole separate set of rims already in the new tires. Jody convinced him that it would be reasonable to have a spare set of rims and tires stored at her place. “I maybe worry a little,” Dean admitted once the quiet lasted for too long.

Jack lifted the tire up onto the car. Dean set the nuts in place and spun one on tight. He handed the crowbar to Jack to finish the job. “What do you worry about?”

Dean stood. His knees felt too old for all the crouching. “I worry that none of this is real.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling Jack any of this. He was a kid, and his normal instinct was to protect kids. Jack was different though. Something about him reminded Dean of how Cas was when he first showed up in his life. Both seemed to be a mix of power and innocence all in one being. It was a strange combination.

“Why do you worry about that?” Jack finished tightening the nuts and handed Dean the crowbar. Dean lowered the car and moved the jack to the next tire.

“Pretty sure you’ve gotten an earful about the whole dream world stuff that I went through before we found you in Montana.” Jack nodded his acknowledgement. Dean ran a hand up into his hair. It was getting long, and the gesture reminded him that he needed to cut it. “Things are good. Just makes sense that none of it would be real, that I’m just back in Cora.”

“I don’t understand.” Dean started jacking up the car. Jack got the next tire and asked, “Do you think real things are always bad?”

A small half laugh escaped Dean’s lips as he set a hand on the new tire to hold it in place.. “My experience has been less than typical. I think a lot of people get to have an apple pie life. I never once imagined that I’d get anything like that. Seems each time things started to feel a bit good, something would come along and rip it all away.”

“I see,” Jack said as he took the crowbar from Dean. 

“Yeah.” Dean stood back up and watched Jack work. “I guess I worry that it’s either not real, or that something is gonna happen to ruin it all. Either way, good things don’t last.”

“Sam sees things differently from you.” Jack handed the nuts to Dean. He pulled the tire off with ease and set it aside. Dean rolled the other tire next to him. “He thinks we can make the world a better place. He says that good can come of what we do.” Dean noticed how Jack included himself in the statement. It was funny to Dean how a little time had changed so much. Jack was their ally now. They were literally cozy with the son of Lucifer, and on most days that was something to laugh about just a little. “Sam seems to think that the world right now is pretty good.”

Dean watched him ease the new tire into place. He handed Jack the nuts as he needed them. “Sam is a much more positive guy than I am. He’s right though about the good that comes from what we do. I just don’t think we get to live the good life as some sort of reward. We do what we do, and the world is better for it, even if the Winchesters aren’t.”

Jack finished and Dean lowered the car. They moved to the other side and repeated the process. The sun was getting to Dean. He was glad they were halfway done. “Castiel would be sad to hear that.” 

“Sad to hear what?” Too much time passed, and Dean lost the thread.

“That you are unhappy. That you think that you aren’t better now than you were before. He would be sad to hear that.” Jack looked a little earnest as he spoke.

Dean jacked up the back end. He moved off to get the tire from the other side. Jack was already spinning the crowbar. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about this much.”

Jack hummed his response and finished the back tire. They moved on to the front. When they finished he said, “Does he think it’s real?”

“Of course he does. Everyone thinks this is real, just like everyone in Cora thought it was real, just like I thought it was all real. If I’m buying it, you all are buying it.” And that was the problem Dean kept running into. He had no way of knowing. It was all just living and hoping and believing. And most days he’d tell himself that was enough. But if it wasn’t real, then that meant that Cas was dead. And if Cas was dead, that meant he was hanging out here, living an easy life when he should be finding a way to save him. It also meant that his mom was in danger, and that Sam was miserable and maybe alone back in North Cove. The possibilities twisted him up a little when he thought about it. 

Jack interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve considered your worries. You are right about how car repair leads to different thoughts.”

“You don’t say,” Dean said as he let out a huff of air.

“You just need to ask someone who can give you an answer that you’ll believe. You can’t ask us, because you think you’ve made us up.”

Dean laughed now and said, “So genius, who do you think I should ask?”

Jack seemed to think about that for a moment, then he said, “Maybe the architect of your dream. Maybe you should go back to where it all started and ask him. Mo was his name, wasn’t it?”

Dean just stared at him dumbstruck. He hadn’t considered this option. At that moment, Cas came around the corner from the backyard. “Sam sent me to get you both. He said the add-on isn’t gonna build itself.” Cas looked a little exasperated as he said it. He even had one hand on his hip as he leaned into the side of the garage.

Dean moved over toward him. “Yeah, we’ll be right there.” He leaned in and kissed him. “Figured you could handle the manual labor, no sweat.”

Cas looked at him and then Jack. “It is not about what we are capable of. It’s about everyone doing their part to make this home what it’s going to be.”

Dean smiled at him, a plan forming in his head. He glanced back at Jack. “Go on back and help Cas. I’ll be there in a minute.” The two of them did what he said. Dean moved the jack and tools back into the garage and closed it up. He stood next to the Impala and let the sun shine down on his face. It was getting quite hot. He felt a small measure of hope though that he’d lost before. He made his way into the yard and saw everyone working on setting the wall frames in place on the new room that they were building.

Dean rushed over to help with the lifting. He held up an end while Sam used the nail gun. Cas was practically naked on the other side in his white t-shirt and slacks. Dean stared shamelessly at him from his corner of the building. “Dean, move your hands,” Sam said. Dean focused, and did as Sam said. 

By the end of the afternoon, the room was practically done. It would need paint and carpeting, but that was easy. Everyone drifted off once the work seemed to be done for the day. Dean lingered though and took a beer from the cooler. He sat at the little red picnic table and nursed the bottle. Cas came over to the table and sat next to him. “Jack said you had an epiphany.”

Dean hummed and drank down a bit more. He wasn’t sure how to talk about it. How does one say,  _ Hey, I think I’m making you and this whole world up, _ without sounding like a dick. “Yeah, gonna have to teach him how to keep secrets.”

“You really want to teach the son of Lucifer how to keep secrets?” Cas tipped his head to the side, and Dean laughed.

“Guess not.” They fell into silence for a few minutes. “I was gonna talk to you about it, but I wasn’t ready.”

“I’m not concerned. I know that things take a bit of time to come to the surface where you’re concerned. I’m patient.” Cas reached over and set a firm hand on Dean’s leg and left it there. 

“He tell you all of it?” Dean asked.

“No. I didn’t encourage the sharing. I figured it was your epiphany to share. I assume it has something to do with what’s been weighing on you lately.” Cas’ thumb rubbed a small half circle into the edge of Dean’s leg. He focused on that, on the way every little touch from him brought him some small measure of peace even when he doubted this world was real.

“You're not wrong.” Dean stared off into the distance. “I want to take a road trip.” Dean paused and looked at Cas. “With you,” he added.

Cas seemed to consider this. “And where would we go?”

“North Cove,” Dean sucked in a breath and added, “or Cora. Whichever appears first.”

“Oh, I see.” Cas got up from the table and walked off to the back fence. He stared over it into the trees.

Dean got up and came to his side. “I have to. I have to know. I’d do it alone, but…”

Cas cut him off, “No. I go where you go.”

“Then it's settled.” Dean rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “We'll set out tomorrow.” Cas gave him a nod, then went back into the house.

 

* * *

 

The journey to Washington could have been a shorter one. Dean didn't want to get there too quickly though. He planned a route that would meander toward Oregon from South Dakota. They’d snake along the southern edge of Oregon then cut up the coast and northward toward Washington.

Cas didn't question him as they drove. He just seemed to take it all in. The silence gave Dean too much time for thoughts. He wondered if Cas would ever tell him that this was a real dick move.

From time to time Dean would look at him out of the corner of his eye. Cas wasn't looking back. There was a small town nestled in the woods. They’d only driven for a few hours on the first day, stopping in the south eastern part of South Dakota. Dean noted it on the maps he'd studied the night before. There was a little resort there with a collection of cabins that were rented out to travelers. Dean had booked one before they left Jody's. He wanted a destination already set.

They pulled in outside of the main cabin that was also the office. Cas still didn't question him. “Gonna go get our key for the night.”

“It's still pretty early.” Cas looked at him as he lingered half in and half out of the driver's side door.

“I know.”

“Thought you wanted to get to North Cove.”

“I'm not in a hurry. You in a hurry?” Dean got out fully now, but he leaned back in for Cas’ response.

Cas sighed. “Not even a little. I just…” he started then looked away. “Go get the key.”

Dean waited a moment, then closed the door. He headed into the office.

 

* * *

 

Dean moved the car to an acceptable parking spot, and walked with Cas back through the trees to their cabin for the night. It was still full day, and Cas was still fully silent. Dean walked close to him, relishing the warm brush of his arm and the proximity of him. He knew he’d lose this if he got to North Cove and saw Cas still lying there on the ground. He knew he’d never believe a damn thing was real if once again, he lost everything. This felt real though. 

He had an old key for the cabin. He stepped in front of Cas and unlocked the door. They went in, and Dean set his bag on the table near the door. It was plenty rustic. He was happy with that. Dean turned back to the door. Cas was just standing there like he was waiting to be invited in. “Talk to me, Cas.” Dean stepped up close to him and reached out. He took his hand and pulled him into the room. He closed the door behind him. Cas just sighed and said nothing. Dean crowded him back up against the door and said, “Or don’t talk to me. We’ve always managed to do alright without words too.” It wasn’t entirely true, but Dean was fine with treading down either path.

Dean leaned in close, intending to kiss away the chances of a conversation. Of course, Cas chose to speak. “You don’t believe we’re real.” Cas was including the Wanderer in his statement. Dean dipped his head down and rested it against, Cas’ own. “It’s hard to believe that with all we’ve been through, that you still think you’re dreaming this.”

There was sadness in his tone, and Dean felt it. He put it there after all. He reached up and cupped Cas’ cheek in his hand. “If it helps, this feels real. It hurts like it’s real.”

Cas looked him in the eyes with that. “Real things don’t have to hurt. We can be happy. That can be real. It’s like you think that the only things that are real are the worst things in the world.”

He wasn’t wrong, so Dean didn’t deny it. “I dreamed you loved me hundreds of times. I dreamed that we got a good life together and that everyone that mattered to us was happy. It was some Inception-level bullshit. You’ll have to forgive me for just wanting to be sure.”

“I don’t see how you’ll ever find that kind of assurance. I’m worried.” 

“Me too,” Dean said it softly, a barely there whisper.

“And if you don’t find what you’re looking for in North Cove, what then?” It was the fear that Dean had too. He heard the worry in Cas’ tone. He wanted to give him an answer, some small comfort that no matter what, they’d be okay. 

“I love you. Nothing changes that.” He knew it wasn’t an answer. He knew it maybe wasn’t enough, but he leaned into him anyway. Cas let the kiss happen. They were warm hard lines pressed against each other. Dean didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He hoped Cas didn’t want to talk about it either. There was nothing to say anyway. There were no answers to be had. There was just this, a type of comfort or a last hurrah. Dean ran his hands down to the buttons on Cas’ shirt and began undoing them. 

Cas kissed him back, but at the same time, he did not touch Dean. His hands hung limp at his sides. At first Dean did not notice it. He wanted Cas’ hands on him, wanted to feel the comforting, anchoring weight of them settled on his hips or his shoulders. He wanted to feel them rucking up his shirt, gaining contact with his skin, but he didn’t get that. He got Cas’ lips, parted. He got the taste of Cas, the gentle tip of his head, the swipe of his tongue. He wanted more though. He craved more.

Dean pushed in closer. He could feel the firmness of Cas as he did so. The comfort though, that came from him was missing. He wanted to ask him to just touch him already, but he also didn’t want to tell him what to do. He didn’t want to dictate Cas’ actions. It felt too much like what life was like in Cora.

Dean’s rested his palms flat against Cas’ now bare chest. He was warm beneath Dean’s touch, warm and alive. Dean’s head swam with the prayer,  _ please be real, please be real, please be real. _ Cas tipped his head in a way that broke the kiss. He stepped off to the side and away from Dean’s body. Dean watched him, hungry for more than what he got. Cas walked away from him, deeper into the cabin. Dean stared after him for a moment as he turned and went into the bedroom. Dean sucked in a deep breath and followed him.

Cas was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was slipping off his shoes. He finished removing his shirt and set it on the end of the bed. Dean watched him from the doorway. Cas did not look up at him. There was something almost sad about the whole look of him, his body slumped over just a bit, his eyes hooded and dark. Dean stripped off his layers and left them in a pile by the door. Still, Cas did not look up.

Dean moved to him. He came down to his knees between Castiel’s slightly parted legs. Dean rested his head against Cas’ chest. He breathed in the warmth of him. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ back and held him. He didn’t try to escalate things. He didn’t kiss him or press in any closer. He just held onto everything that he feared losing. Dean beat himself up a little in those moments too. He never really had faith in anything before. He never really was the praying sort. Then Cas came along and gave him something to believe in, something to pray to.  _ You deserve better. I know. You don’t have to go to North Cove with me. You shouldn’t have to deal with my bullshit. _

Dean felt a soft press to the top of his head. Castiel kissed him there and didn’t pull away. He seemed to be content to just linger there, and Dean pulled comfort from that. “You know I won’t leave you. Your bullshit is the only bullshit I want to deal with.” He could feel Cas smiling into his hair.

“Still,” Dean started.

“Still, nothing. I’m going with you. I’m going to stand at your side as we look at the lake and the land that doesn’t contain my formerly dead body.” Dean leaned back and looked at him. “And when all is said and done, maybe I’ll earn back your faith in my existence.” 

“You been looking at my thoughts again?” Dean asked. 

“He has. I’m more respectful.” Cas smiled at him.

“More respectful, huh?” Dean smiled back.

Cas’ voice shifted a bit and Dean knew he was speaking with his other Cas, his Wanderer. “It isn’t disrespectful to listen to your very loud thoughts. They are practically prayers.” He leaned down and kissed the edge of Dean’s mouth. “Besides, I’m certain that he has been doing the same thing all these years. He just lies about it.”

Dean donned a look of mock surprise. “Well Cas, sounds like you’ve been outed. Sneaky bastard.”

Cas’ said, “I only took in what you wanted me to hear. Occasionally, you wanted me to hear your thoughts, but you didn’t want me to acknowledge that I heard them.”

“Yeah, but what’s your excuse now?” 

The Wanderer spoke for him, “I am his excuse. I need to spend some time learning better behavior. Perhaps, you’ll help me with that.” He leaned back in and kissed Dean again. This time with more desire than the half kiss he gave him before.

Dean broke the kiss this time, and Cas slid back onto the bed. Dean crawled over to him. “So you’re not mad at me about the whole real, not real business?”

“No, not mad.”

“Unhappy?” Dean asked.

Cas just looked at him for a moment. Dean reached out to him and traced a line over his forehead. He raked his fingers into Cas’ hair. Cas said, “I want to be real to you, because I want you to be happy. I’m tired of the ways in which the universe seems intent on delivering misery to your doorstep. You deserve better.”

Dean leaned in this time. Cas reached out to him and pulled him in close. Dean felt the anchoring warmth of Cas’ hands slowly sliding over his back to his shoulderblades. His fingers fanned out there like wings on Dean’s back. They stayed like this, chasing each other’s pleasure long into the night. And when Dean finally felt like he could sleep, he said, “Is there anything that you want from me?”

The silence that stretched out, almost made Dean wonder if Cas was going to respond. The room was dark, so he couldn’t see his face. He could feel him though, warm and solid and right there next to him in the bed. “Just hold onto me, like you did before.” 

Dean wasn’t sure if he meant holding him like he did with the grace he’d accumulated or if he meant something a bit more physical, more recent. In the end he decided that it didn’t matter which he meant. He’d do anything and all of it again if Cas needed it. He rolled onto his side and slid his arm beneath Cas. He pulled him to his side. He draped his other arm across his chest and pressed his lips into the side of Cas’ neck. Most of all though, Dean held on.

 

* * *

 

They left the cabin at check-out time. Cas brought food back to the room, and let Dean sleep. It was rather domestic, sitting across from each other at the little kitchen table, without anything or anyone driving them out into the world. Usually, there’d be a case pulling their attention. It was pleasant spending the morning just looking at each other, and breathing in the earthy forest air. 

They even went for a walk out to the small pond that was supposedly stocked with fish each summer. Dean skipped some stones, and Cas copied his moves, besting him each time. Dean held his hand as they wandered into the thicker forest. Cas occasionally stopped to look at tracks in the dirt. He told Dean about the animals that made them. Dean was glad that they had this day, this time away from everyone. He was glad that they got to wrap themselves up in each other. Deep into their walk, Cas pushed him back up against a tree, like he was moving him out of harm’s way. Dean felt the press of the rough tree at his back and the solidness of Cas’ body against him. It took him mere seconds to realize that this wasn’t about protection.

Cas dropped to his knees and looked up at him. Dean sucked in a deep breath of desire. “Got some plans while you’re down there?” Dean had asked him with a smirk. A seriousness took over Cas’ face as he reached out to him and undid his jeans. Dean tipped back his head with a moan.

“Be quiet. You’ll disturb the forest creatures.” Dean did his best to comply.

 

* * *

 

Within just a few days they were driving along the coastal hwy. The ocean loomed large on their left. Cas settled his arm on the seatback and toyed with Dean’s hair a little as he drove. “It’s getting long.”

“Yeah, I need to cut it.” He glanced at Cas.

“Soon enough, you’ll be looking like Sam.” Cas smiled at him.

Dean groaned, “Don’t say that. I’ll think you have a thing for my brother.”

Cas laughed. “He’s a beautiful human.”

“No. You don’t get to have a thing for my brother.” Dean reached across the seat and swatted at his leg.

“Clearly, you are just a stepping stone to my real desire, Sam Winchester,” Cas laughed as he said it.

“That does it. Next town, I’m finding a barber. Cutting the whole damn thing down to a respectable length.”

Cas slid over to him and leaned into his ear. He growled out, “Then I won’t have anything to hold onto.” Cas’ hand moved up his thigh and stopped just close enough to the top that Dean almost had to pull over. 

“Fuck, Cas. You want us to crash?” He shrugged in a way that moved Cas back a little. “Maybe just a little trim.”

“Good.” Cas let his hand fall back to stroking Dean’s hair as he drove. They listened to Metallica with the volume low, as if that was how one listened to Metallica. Dean glanced at Cas every couple of miles as if to reassure himself that Cas was still there. Later they rolled down the windows, and the car was full of crisp sea air. The signs for North Cove showed that they had at least six more hours to go. 

Dean picked another stopping point. The sun was still shining. They’d eat and fill the night with each other. He thought he might be able to make the journey last two more days. He wanted to hold onto as much of this as he could.

 

* * *

 

Dean dreamed of North Cove. He saw himself alone, walking from the car toward the back of the little house that Cas and Kelly had shared. The distance seemed to stretch out ahead of him, like the yard was miles away instead of just the 20 or so feet that it really was. The sky carried storm clouds to the space right overhead. He felt the first few drops of rain, cold on his skin. The lake shimmered with starlight.

The mountain far away was still covered in winter snow. Beneath the canopy of the moon and stars was Cas. His face turned up to an uncaring sky. His eyes closed forever. Dean moved to his side and fell to his knees. He did not cry or speak. He’d been here too many times. He’d grown somehow cold in this space. This was not his Cas. His Cas was alive. And if he chose not to accept it, he knew that it was true, as true as anything that mattered.

He stroked the side of Cas’ face. He let his hand sit there. His thumb rubbed little half moons into Cas’ cheek. He curled his fingers back into Cas’ hair. He held on a little. He didn’t pray, because he didn’t know who to pray to or what to ask for. Instead he just watched the night roll on toward day and the lake lapping at the shore.

The storm clouds passed, and took with them the rain that had only barely touched him. The sun rose over the water. He held on, and he breathed. He lived. He dreamed. He looked down at Cas and chose to wake up.

 

 

They left the motel, and drove the remaining miles clear through to North Cove. Cas never questioned Dean’s plans. He just sat at his side and took in the world that passed by them. Dean drove with one hand settled behind Cas’ head on the seatback. He needed the proximity. 

They pulled into the side lot next to the cabin by mid-afternoon. Dean could already see that the yard was empty. He and Cas got out of the Impala and walked to the space that was once Cas’ grave. The pyre that they had built for Kelly was burnt down to ashes now. Cas left Dean’s side and went to it. He stood near it and seemed to be speaking quietly. Dean moved to his side and took his hand.

“I should have done more to protect her. I failed her.” Castiel stared into the ashes.

“I felt the same way about losing you.” Dean said

Cas looked at him. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“I could have done a great many things. That’s how life is though. We do a bunch of things. We don’t do a bunch of things, and in the end we spend a whole lot of time hating ourselves for what we didn’t say and do.” Dean pulled Cas into a sideways hug. “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too, Dean.” They stayed by Kelly’s grave for a few minutes more. 

Dean eventually let Cas go and returned to where Cas had been when he had died. He stared at the emptiness of the space. He came to his knees there, half expecting to be sucked into another version of the world, one where Cas was still dead. Everything stayed as it was. Dean prayed. “Hey Mo, if you have a second, I’d like a word with you in person.” It was as respectful as a Dean Winchester prayer could be. 

A voice came from behind him. “So we meet again.”

Dean turned and saw Mo standing with his cane. Cas was off to the side, looking like he’d fight him if need be. Dean raised a hand to him, saying, “It’s okay Cas.” He turned his attention to Mo. “Hey Mo.”

“I’m impressed, Dean. Somehow you managed to fix things without my help.” Mo looked to Cas then and added, “Did God return to help again?”

“No,” Dean answered for him. “Chuck’s still MIA. I thought maybe you had a hand in this.”

Mo laughed and said, “When I left you, he was dead. I craft dreams. This is,” he waved a hand around between them and added, “very much not a dream.”

“How can I believe you?” Dean got up then and approached Mo. “I really need some reassurance here.”

Mo smiled at him. There was kindness in his eyes. He reached out to Dean and settled a hand on his shoulder. He smelled of honey and Cora. “Look at him, Dean.” Dean followed Mo’s hand that pointed toward Cas. He looked. Cas was ready to dive toward them in an instant. He was strong. Dean noted the way that his eyes seemed hard, like he was bracing for battle. “Is he the angel that you dreamed back to life in Cora?”

“I don’t know, Mo. You tell me.” He watched as Castiel’s head fell a little. His posture lost some of the power he had noted before. “When I’m near him, sometimes he’s the only thing in the world that feels real.” Cas looked up at him then.

They locked eyes and stayed that way as Mo spoke. “I give you dreams of what you can’t have. You don’t have any need of me now. You have everything. You have something real.”

“So this isn’t a dream?” Dean turned to Mo again.

Mo smiled again, big and full of life. “It’s not a dream. Trust me. I know dreams.” He let Dean go and moved to Cas. He set a hand on his shoulder and said, “You’ll have to forgive him. He went to great lengths to imagine you whole again.”

Cas looked past him at Dean and said, “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Mo stepped back and looked at Dean. “Now, I have dreams to make, and a whole world to attend to. ‘Til we meet again, Dean Winchester.” He faded away. 

Dean turned back to Cas and pulled him into a hug. He held him, breathed into his hair and didn’t let go. “Does this mean you believe I’m real?”

“You’ve always been real. I just needed this.” Dean pulled back just a little to look at him. “We good?”

“Always,” Cas’ reply came quickly. 

“Let’s go home then.” They walked together to the car. Cas had his arm around Dean as they walked. They stopped at the door to the Impala. Cas pulled him into a full hug once more before they would leave. Dean nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder and breathed him in. There was a sweetness to him that was warm and seemed to fill Dean up with each breath. Dean dug his fingers into him and held on and held on. This felt good. It felt real. It was something he knew he could always hold onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you for any kudos you feel like leaving and any kind words. You can also find me on Tumblr under the name [Spearywritesstuff](http://spearywritesstuff.tumblr.com/) or more often on Twitter under the name [Spearywrites](https://twitter.com/spearywrites)


End file.
